#but like. the way they both talk about tim while the poor kid is holed up studying discount jokers.... free my boy

[autism-connoisseur]

arkham knight is so funny because i did one of those team up missions with nightwing going after penguin's gun hideouts and since you can talk to him afterwards i exhausted every option. and one thing he says is how he hasn't seen robin around and how he can't help but to see him as 'the new kid' and how it must've been hard to step into being robin after 'what happened' but that tim is very brave and the whole line and the way he says it had me on the verge of tears. then 5 minutes later i heard a militia guy say, verbatim "nah, robin isn't batman's kid. the knight said so, and he knows his stuff" and my honest reaction was this:

BECAUSE WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT.

[redrobin-detective]

Strike

When Jack Drake stormed up to the top floor of Wayne Enterprises, prepared to kick and scream his way back to the big man himself, he hadn’t expected the secretary to announce that Bruce Wayne had been waiting for him. It floundered him for a moment but then he remembered why he was here and clenched his bruised knuckles and burst into the room. He was almost pleased to see Wayne hunched over his desk, glaring at him with a dark expression. Jack had come looking for a fight and it seemed like he was going to get one.

“Wayne,” Jack ground out, almost but not quite slamming the door behind him.

“Jack,” Wayne said evenly but his steely gaze never left Jack. If he were a smaller man, he’d be almost intimidated. Jack read the papers, heard the gossip, Bruce Wayne was nice enough but with a brain made of cotton. The ice blue eyes boring holes into his head now felt a helluva lot sharper than fluff. “You’re here about Tim.”

“You’re damn right I am!” Jack shouted, not taking the available chair and slamming his palms down on Wayne’s fancy desk. “My boy confessed to me last night what you’ve been doing to him,” one of Wayne’s eyebrows twitched. “I was trying to teach him to drive last night and do you know what I found? He already knows how because you taught him! You’ve been mentoring him, buttering him up and turning him against his own family for goddamn years now!”

“Tim came to me,” Wayne said curtly, frowning harder than before. 

“Oh so that makes it alright?” Jack barked a laugh before sneering. “Tim is 16 so how old was he when he ‘came to you’ as you say? 14? 12? younger? Don’t think I haven’t heard the rumors over the years about what you did with those street kids in that big, isolated house of yours.” If Wayne’s eyes were ice before now they were practically glacial now. 

“But unlike those poor street urchins, one of whom is dead now in some freak accident you never really explained, my boy has a family and connections. Drake Industries has significant assets and I’ll be damned if you schmooze them away from my son!”

“Your son, who you and your wife left for weeks at a time while on expeditions,” Wayne said, words scraping like glass. “Your son who came to me time and again for concerns, questions, support when you were unavailable due to your other interests.” Wayne snarled a bit, showing the barest flash of teeth that absolutely did not send a chill down Jack’s spine. “Your son, who is brave and brilliant and so strong, called me practically in tears last night about your fight. The fight in which you took a swing at him, a strike that would have connected if I hadn’t taught him how to defend himself.”

No longer content with brooding at the desk, Wayne stood up to his full height and seemed to loom over Jack.

“Let me lay out some facts for you, Mr. Drake,” Wayne said slowly. “I have more than enough evidence of emotional abuse and neglect gathered over the years, not even accounting for last night’s attempt at physical abuse. The only reason the boy remains in your care is because he wants to be there, because he loves you and wants a relationship with you. But his love and loyalty is not enough to justify me turning a blind eye any more.”

“I-it was an accident, I’d had too much to drink,” Jack stammered, defensive. “I was angry and-and Tim wasn’t acting like himself, he was talking back and being rude... I didn’t realize I’d thrown the punch until Tim deflected it, thank god.” His arms still stung from the force of Tim’s defending blow. He’d wondered at the time where Tim had learned such things. Now he didn’t have to wonder too hard.

“One thing we have in common Jack is we both deeply care for Tim. He is not my child of blood, just as Dick and Jason aren’t but make no mistake, Timothy is mine as much as he is yours.” Wayne growled out possessively before abruptly turning to look out his window. “I’m not accustomed to sharing my boys but you deserve the truth.” 

“I owe him my life. I was in a bad place after the death of Jason, at 13 Tim knocked on my door with a beat-up jacket and a camera and asked how he could help me recover.” The man chuckled and Jack could read years of fond affection in that tone. He doesn’t know what jacket the man was talking about nor did he even know Tim liked photography. As during his fight with Tim last night, he’s realizing he doesn’t know his son much at all. Not like Wayne does. 

“Tim works for me, unofficially,” Wayne added on carefully, as if choosing his words. “He’s not on any payroll though I do pay for all his expenses. He helps me with my charitable endeavors, helping me identify areas of need in the city as well as running the business. If he does choose to take over Drake Industries then it will be in good hands. He’s,” another soft chuckle, “he’s a real wonder boy that one.”

“Is that where he’s always sneaking off to?” Jack asked, finally sinking into the chair. “I thought he was boozing or chasing after girls, you know, what I used to do when I was a kid his age.”

“Tim chases after a different sort,” Wayne said enigmatically. He finally turned back, his eyes still sharp but softened somewhat. Softened by the memory of Jack’s son and the relationship they’d had under his nose. Dana commented how independent Tim was for his age, Jack took it as a matter of pride having raised such a good kid. Now he’s realizing he didn’t have much to do with the man Tim is becoming. 

“So here is how things are going to go,” Wayne said, back to business. “Dick is going to drop Tim off at your place after school, probably after stopping for a snack. Richard does love to spoil his little brother,” Wayne stated, not asked. “I am cancelling all of Tim’s duties for the weekend, giving you two a chance to spend some time together. I will do my best to be up front when I need Tim, make sure it doesn’t interfere too much with his school and sleep schedule. As I said, I am not accustomed to sharing but I am willing to do anything for one of my boys. And in return,” the glacial glare comes back. “You will take good care of your son and if I even suspect any emotional or physical abuse then I will rake you across the coals. Are we clear, Jack?”

“Crystal,” Jack swallowed, clutching the sides of his chair. This was the man who tripped on the red carpet last winter?

“This is strike one,” Wayne said casually. “In baseball you are given three strikes but Tim deserves better than that. You do not want to see what happens with strike two.” The tension in the room peaked then crashed like an ocean wave as Wayne’s stance softened and he went about adjusting his cufflinks. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my next appointment will be arriving soon. We’ll be in touch.”

“Right, yeah, thanks for agreeing to see me,” Jack murmured as he stood up and went for the door.

“And Jack?” he winced and turned to Wayne again who was once again seated. He was looking at a photo on his desk, Jack couldn’t tell who was in it, maybe Tim. Jack had never had any photos of Tim on his desk. “Tim always has a place at my home should your other responsibilities become too much. His room is ready and waiting for him.” Wayne threatened, promised with a soft smile. “I’d say to tell Tim that but he already knows. Have a good day, Jack.”

Jack staggered out of the office, passing by a pretty redheaded woman in a wheelchair as she entered Wayne’s office. He didn’t remember much of the elevator ride down or meandering through the busy lobby. Jack did stand outside Wayne Enterprises for a while after, just thinking. He’d here planning on telling the smarmy rich sponge to stop influencing his son. He hadn’t expected the pit sucking realization that Tim was barely his son anymore, that only their shared name, widows peak and crooked ears connected them. In the time he hadn’t been watching, Tim had become another man’s son. 

And that man wasn’t going to let Tim slip away like Jack had.

[anwynb2003]

Um... I think I made a BatFam AU while half-asleep...

Ok so, I wake up, and it seems last night I wrote out a messy explanation of a story that I just might have to write now... but I've read literally one Batman comic (Death in the Family), and all my knowledge comes from either YouTube, Wikis, and stories on AO3...

Hyperfixation is fun, isn't it?

Anyway, here's a copy-paste of what I wrote in my half-asleep state at around 2:00 last night (note, the doc itself is simply titled "C'mon. You Know."):

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tireeeeed let’s do this

Okay so

AU: No superheroes. Bruce Wayne is just a rich dude who starts taking in orphans because reasons.

First up was Dick Grayson, who he adopted when he was 9.

7 years later, he added 13-year-old Jason Todd.

3 years later, 12-year-old Tim Drake.

2 years later, 14-year-old Cassie Cain.

And finally, 2 years after that, he learned of and gained custody of his only biological son: 10-year-old Damian Wayne.

Only a year after Damian joined the family though, Brucie boy died, presumably in a “tragic accident”, but it’s quickly revealed that someone’s altered his will, leaving his kids with none of the family’s fortune; not even their home.

Dick, who’d moved out a few years ago, now has custody of his 3 youngest siblings, and only a small, 2-bedroom house in Blüdhaven to care for them in.

Jason, who for a variety of reasons had run away at 15, and had stayed away for the most part, reluctantly agrees to move in Full House style to help Dick, while all the siblings work with their ex-butler/grandfather figure Alfred, and family-friends Jim and Babs Gordon to figure out the mystery of their father’s death and will.

Tensions run high, Dick’s having a breakdown, Jay’s struggling to Dad (verb), Tim’s gay and spiralling, Cass struggles with speech, and Dami’s emotionally stunted. Yay!

So we got:

Dick, 24-year-old officer of the BPD. Adopted at 9 years old after losing his parents in a circus act gone wrong, Dick stayed with Bruce until he was 18, when after a heated argument he left for college. He made up with his father over the next couple years and stayed in contact, often visiting him and his siblings.

Jason, 21-year-old, works part-time at a gym in Crime Alley, Gotham City. Adopted when he was 13, after several years of living on the streets after his step-mother’s death by overdose and his father’s “peace out” moment. Discovered the identity of his birth-mother, ran away to go find her because teen angst and increasing fights with Bruce, then she was found dead a week later (her ex was charged and found guilty) and while Jay couldn’t be found, much of the blood at the crime scene was his. Then, randomly, he contacted his family again 4 years later, at 19. Didn’t move back in, and things were quite tense between him and Bruce, but still hung out with his siblings outside the home (though he was angry at Tim at first, for being adopted less than a year after his “death” and "replacing" him).

Tim, 17-year-old honours student. Adopted when he was 12, but actually started hanging around the house a little before that, as Dick was tutoring him after school. This helped both Dick, and Bruce to discover how neglectful and emotionally abusive his parents were, and Bruce literally had to sue for custody for this kid. He won.

Cassie, another 17-year-old. Adopted at 14, she’d been on the streets much like Jason had, but of her own volition… to a point. She was scarred after seeing her father do… something, when she was only 8 years old (she’s repressed so hard that even she doesn’t remember exactly what), and so ran away. This thing traumatized her so much that she lost her ability to speak for years, and has only just started learning to talk again. Instead, she usually uses ASL.

And Damian, an 11-year-old ball of politeness, good manners, and pure, unadulterated rage. He was born nine-months after his mother date-raped his father, and was raised in quite an… odd way, by said mother and her father. Long and short of it: crime family, but not a close one. He rarely if ever actually saw his mother, and when he did she wasn’t overly affectionate. He spent most of his early days being groomed to be his grandfather’s heir, only for their entire organization to be captured by police when he was 10. It was now when the emotionally stunted, spoiled brat was put into his father’s custody.

Main issues:

-Dickie boy stressed ooooooouut, gotta be a breadwinner and keep his siblings together and safe

-Jaybird technically never made up with Bruce; they’d actually made plans to get together and talk things out, but then, y’know, death

-Timmy, poor thing, is balancing school, work at Wayne Enterprises, and investigating the case of his father’s death, and has seemingly forgotten what sleep is. Adding on the fact that Bruce being dead means his (granted, chosen) role as heir to the company seems much more real (even despite the fake will, he's confident he'll figure it out and find the real one), he’s not doing all that great

-Cassie, sweetheart, has been emotionally traumatized for years, and now just has more trauma to add to that with Bruce being dead. She’s getting better, but struggling

-Dami, baby bird, is filled with more rage than usual, and is endlessly worried about all the animals in his “zoo”; Alfred remains at the manor (though he has not met his new employer), for the sole purpose of making sure they stay fed, watered, bathed, and more or less cared for.

So, to sum up, Dick’s working to support them and trying his best, Jay’s Dad-ing while Dick’s at work since his hours are more flexible, Tim hasn’t slept in years, Cass needs therapy and hugs, and Damian has a growing army of stuffed animals to fill the gaping hole in his life where his zoo used to be (since he could only bring Titus and Alfred the Cat with him to Bludhaven).

Will they be able to figure out who had their father killed and get their family legacy back?

Hell if I know, I haven’t written it yet. Probably. Get off my back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, long story short, I seem to have issues, but this is happening now apparently.

Not right now though, Ima go play Minecraft.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Crutches- Prompt Fill

cw broken bones, food, internalized ableism, dizziness, headaches

Card by the wonderful @celosiaa! I am still accepting bingo prompts! Please send me more because the starred ones are back written already! Send me a prompt and a character and let me know if you want a drawing or writing!

Navigating the London underground on crutches had been trying to say the least.  But, Jon has gotten very good at navigating it with his cane, so out of sheer spite, he managed it without incident. 

He is still clumsy on them, and by the time he reaches the university, he is more than out of breath, having to stop and use his inhaler before he can reach his classroom.  (He will not be sharing that information with Martin, no way.  He is Fine, and that would only cause worry, and Martin has enough to worry about being an EMT).  

Of course the annoying thing is that he broke his Good leg.  

Of course he manages to break his one more functional leg.  What a very Jonathan Sims thing to do.  

He sighs.  He does not want to explain this to his students.  (And he certainly doesn’t want to explain this to Tim and Sasha, but of course they are coming over for dinner.  Actually… he’s grateful that they don’t already know.  Somehow he actually managed to calm Martin down and talk him out of calling them.  Jon leaned hard into the look I’m fine!  It’s a clean break!  It hardly hurts!  It’s fine!  I’ve had much worse, please don’t fuss!  I’m still conscious and everything! Thing.)

Frankly, it’s embarrassing.  

He misses the days where he would just… heal.  

He might still.  Well, he certainly would the old fashion way, but his recovery might be faster than normal.  Physical injuries are still a little aided by his connection to the Eye, however weakened that connection might be.  Doesn’t do Shit for illnesses, but as much as his EDS causes him to bruise, the bruises don’t stick around for too long.  

Just have to wait and see.  

His students stare.  

Jon shivers.  

He tries not to think about the Institute.  He tries not to think about the prickle on the back of his neck… the feeling of eyes on him when there was no one around.  Don’t be daft, Jonathan, you can see the students right there.  You can see their eyes.  You are just their odd professor who looks even more haggard and beat up than usual.  

He Feels much more haggard than usual.  And he’s shaking from the albuterol.  

“Professor, what happened?” One of his students ask as he maneuvers the podium so he can drop his bag.  

He curses at the lack of chair in the lecture hall.  He’s asked for one.  Repeatedly.  And he’s dragged his office chair in with him before, but… he doesn’t exactly have the hands to do it.  

He has to balance on one leg to dig is computer out so he can connect it to the projector.  

“I’m fine,” he answers automatically.  He was.  He is.  Just tripped like the idiot he is, and broke his good leg.  His bad leg had been throbbing since he got on the tube.  

He ignores it.  

His students eye him with clear suspicion.  Which… Jon would have worried about if… they weren’t perfectly justified.  

They had seen him faint many times, pop his hip back in place, watched him dislocate and relocate his arm, and there was the time he had the concussion, and the time he had a migraine and had fainted when someone tapped him on the shoulder, and the time when he had come to class feverish.  

These students have called Martin so many times by now.  

He deserves those cautions glances.  These kids (not really kids, but sue him, they look like kids in his eyes) are ready to call him on his bullshit.  

“I fell the other day.  I’ll be fine.  Just a broken tibia.  I’ll be fine in couple months.  Let’s get on with the lesson.”

One kid raises their hand, and Jon calls on them.  “Yes?”

“Professor Blackwood-Sims, isn’t that your good leg?”

Damn these overly observant students.  If only they payed that much attention to his lectures.  (No, that’s not fair, they are all good students.  The ones who struggle, have good reason to, and Jon has managed to get them to all come talk to him and tell him what they need to do better).  

Jon smiles tightly.  “Well… it was.  Okay, on with the lecture.”

His leg hurts.  The not broken one.  The broken one… well that hurts a little too, but not nearly as much as the one full of holes.  (They are both full of holes, but one was wormed much more thoroughly and hasn’t been the same since.)

Balancing on one leg proves difficult as he’s hit by dizziness.  He’s been standing too long.  Too long on his bad leg, and the tension and pain have given him a headache bad enough that he’s had one of his students turn off the lights.  He can’t face the light of the projector, so he gives the lecture angling away from it.  

One of his students offers to run the PowerPoint so he can sit in one of the desks as he teaches, but he turns her down.  There are only a few minutes left.  He can make it.  Then he can get home and take some painkillers and shower before Tim and Sasha come to dinner.  

He knows he can cancel, but he doesn’t want to.  He’s more dreading having explain what happened.  

He reaches the flat quickly enough.  He should have time to shower and cook.  He hopes.  

He swallows some painkillers dry (just a few so he can still take more before bed and not worry Martin by pushing the recommended doses too far) and works his way out of his work clothes while sitting on the bed.  It isn’t fun.  

He swallows his pride and uses the shower seat.  He hates it.  He hates that he needs it, yes, but honestly it’s more an issue with the textured plastic under his naked skin.  It feels… wrong.  Both because it reminds him of the circus, and because it’s just a bad texture.  It also feels gross… as in unclean.  He cleans it vigorously often, but it still doesn’t feel clean to him.  

Between the headache, and the dizziness from the hot water and several nights of poor sleep (from nightmares and trying to sleep with a cast on which gave him More nightmares), and the pain in both his legs, Jon fights back the darkness around the edges of his vision.  

He will Not pass out now.  

No.  

Will not happen.  No thank you.  No.  

He fights to keep upright and conscious.  And, surprisingly, wins that battle.  He sits on the bed again while dressing, and while braiding his hair. 

It takes him a long time.  There is a lot of hair to work with, and his scalp hurts with the intensity of his headache.  He also dallies, the more time this takes, the longer he can sit.  He should consider dragging a chair in front of the counter and a chair in front of the stove.  That could make cooking less painful.  

Well, in some ways.  

The unnatural angles are hell on his wrists when chopping.  

Lesser of two evils, however, he supposes.  

Shit.  He isn’t going to have time to finish dinner by the time Tim and Sasha arrive.  

And Martin isn’t going to be home for another hour.  He knows, he knows (not Knows, though), that they won’t mind.  Tim might even Help him cook, but… he doesn’t like being a bother.  He wants… well frankly he wants to erase the years of hurt with food (Christ, Martin has worn off on him.  Not that he minds.  He loves Martin).  

The sauce is almost done, but he hasn’t even started the pasta by the time Tim’s voice drifts through the door.  Sing-song and loud.  No knocking (thankfully).  

Jon hates that he needs the crutches to get to the door.  He hates that his vision is swimming by then too.  The painkillers took the edge off the pain, but can’t do much about the other stresses on Jon’s mortal frame.  

“Be there in a moment, or you can just let yourself in,” Jon calls back.  He has to pause and lean on the wall.  This is all very irritating.  

Apparently, Tim had already been halfway through unlocking the door, because he’s in before Jon can even finish the sentence.  

“Jesus, Jon, what did you do this time?”  Sasha exclaims, quickly, but gracefully pulling off her coat, hanging it on one of the hooks by the door.  It’s less a question than a statement.  

“Hello Sasha, Tim.  Dinner isn’t quite ready, but it’s not too far away.  In the meantime there’s wine.  Martin will be here soon, but his shift isn’t over yet.”  His eyes are closed.  Head tilted back against the wall.  The room finally stops spinning around him.  

“What did you even do?”  Tim this time.  

Jon… doesn’t meet his eyes.  He knows he is blushing, but there isn’t much to be done about that.  He mumbles.  He doesn’t know why.  He knows it won’t work.  Shoving out the words too fast to be understood.  

“What was that Jonny?”  That is a cackle.  Tim is cackling.  Tim, is very irritating… but he does love him, even when he’s teasing.  

“Tripped over my cane.”  Jon says as quickly and quietly as possible.  

“Only you, buddy.  Only You, could do something like that.  Now PLEASE SIT DOWN BEFORE YOU FALL OVER.  I can finish making dinner!”  Tim herds him to a chair.  In the kitchen, because Jon knows that Tim knows Jon won’t actually relax on the couch or the bed if he’s told to.  

“Okay, Jon, what’s left to do… No buts!  This smells amazing and I can’t fuck up pasta, probably.  At least I assume you planned pasta, because there is a box on the counter.”  Sasha says this brandishing aforementioned pasta.  

Sasha makes him tea.  Tim makes the pasta.  (Tim is absolutely the chief between the two of them.)  

“When did you last have painkillers?”  Tim asks.  

“Not too long ago.  Really I’m fine.”

Tim hmmms.  

Jon finds himself nodding off at the table by the time Martin comes home.  

He knows he’s being talked about.  

“Hey, sweetheart.  Hey?”

Jon sleepily raises his head from the table.  “Sorry, I went to work.”  

“Love, I thought you were going to Zoom in today.”  Martin doesn’t sound Angry.  But he doesn’t sound happy about this.  In Jon’s defense, he did say he would see how he felt, and he felt fine in the morning.  

Jon whines, he hates disappointing Martin.  

“We can talk about that tomorrow.”  Martin presses a kiss to his forehead.  

“Hey!  No sleeping until we eat!”  Tim.  Mock serious.  Although he will be very serious if Jon tries to skive off to sleep without some food.  

“Dinner, then I vote we cuddle Jon until he gets some rest!”  Sasha this time.  

Just like old times.  

He knows he will be teased for How he broke his leg.  He knows he and Martin will have a serious chat about him pushing himself.  

But for now there is food, and cheer, and his loved ones.  

[monster-bcrn]

SPOOKY’S 100 FOLLOWER SHOUTOUT!

Okay for real this is the fastest growing blog I’ve ever had hehehe. Never expected Grundy to get this popular this quickly!

Freaking love this zombaby and I’m so glad y’all love him too! As promised, gonna shout out some fantabulous bloggos that helped get Grundy to where he is today. XD

@akasupergirl/ @azombieme (I FREAKING ADORE GRUNDY AND KARA AND LIV. I swear Grundy’s loyal to Kara like he was to Shayera and Jade and Liv is totally his baby sister and is gonna protect her from.....everything. :P

Even pigeons, because they’re legion.)

@thecatgoddessbast (A blast from the past! Glad to see you again after I rampaged and caused chaos as a certain deranged pincushion of a mushroom way back in the time before present. XD

Now I get to do that as a zombie. :D Win/win!)

@starcityvigilante (OLLIE. FFFFFF-okay for real I’m HYPED to plot wacky ideas with you. Grundy has a MASSIVE grudge against Green Arrow and I’m like......*push these two together* you both get along right now.)

@folcire (We literally just started talking and I’m loving your Ivy already! Can’t wait to see how Grundy grows to see her the more he talks to her because they’re both sassy plant people that way. XD)

@themartlans (FFFFFF-J’ONN. Everyone’s favorite green uncle :D I freaking adore him and I HATE how the most he ever interacted with Grundy was him being tossed into the bay. >_<

They really need to talk more, and MAN! That Injustice verse of yours is SICK. Definitely hyped for making Grundy into an insurgent and a good zombie instead of Supes’ lapdog.

( Look at this face....LOOK AT IT.)

@blackwingsbluedings (One of the best Dick Grayson’s out there and definitely loving seeing Grundy be less smash and more “......hug?” They both need hugs I swear.)

@marvelousdamsels (We haven’t talked much but I adore your muses and I just hope Grundy doesn’t come off as too weird or clingy.......wait.......that’s......literally Grundy.....

:D)

@theirfirstexperiment (GRUNDY ON A RAMPAGE YOOOOOO! Better run fast. XD)

@amazonexile/ @gothamprens/ @captainstevertrevor ( Freaking love your muses and I love seeing Diana and Bruce actually WANT to help Grundy. It’s too easy just beating on Grundy and I love seeing them actually bother to try to get to the gentler side of the Hulk’s crazy cousin. XD)

@justiceebound / @nighttfight ( *slams fist on the table* YOU ARE AWESOME! Your Shayera is awesome, your Bruce is a national treasure and I can’t wait to throw Grundy at Supes and Diana, because these guys need a big reconciliation thing after all the chaos from literal years of slugging it out.

And I LOVE it. >:D)

@ofamazonia 

@theamazondiana   (Both of you are AWESOME Wonder Women and MAN I love plotting ideas. I’m tired of seeing Diana being turned into too much of a warrior while negating her role as a peace-maker and y’all NAIL her kindness and wisdom and need to give everyone a chance. Freaking LOVE IT!)

@raininginkyxto (LOL I always love imagining Grundy in Marvel and now poor Weasel is kind of stuck with him. XD Man, if the Hulks meet Grundy then that poor bar is going to really get smashed.....)

@notatomo (GIANT. Man I loved that movie as a kid and I LOVE the subsequent giant robot and tiny kid works inspired from it (example being the CRIMINALLY under-appreciated Sentinel series by UDON.) Can’t wait to see what happens when Grundy talks more to someone bigger than him. XD)

@liminalstctic (GRUNDY HEARTS TINY GIRL. XD Yeah he’s trying his hardest to help her. ;A;)

@dolceclavier

@gobsnacc

@adrenalinesaint

@ninelivesruined

@yellowskinnedwackyman  (CREEPER! I’ll forever ADORE these two butts because they’re team Tree Lobsters.)

@collidingxworlds/ @thecursedhellblazer (I. Love. Your. Constantine. I swear I have so much fun writing Grundy trying to get drunk (and failing) and learning to cuss up a storm while still being a mad lad ready to throw down with mega-zombies to protect his tiny friend.

DC, make this friendship canon or so help me Grodd...)

@chaosmultiverse (I love your Klarion so much! He’s so much fun! XD And Teekl for the epic win!)

@raichoose (Herbert West and Solomon Grundy? THAT aIN’T GOOD! D:>)

@gctjinxd (Freaking LOVE your Jinx! LOL how she manipulates Freeze and how Grundy isn’t even REMOTELY phased by her powers. Like he is TOUGH. Even bad luck won’t stop him.)

@killcrcroc (BIG BAD KILLER CROC! I love your Waylon and I adore how he has a collection of watches and that awesome suit. XD Croc definitely deserves more love since he’s much smarter than he looks, and tough enough to even get Grundy to back down in a serious fight.)

@babydxhl (Baby Doll is criminally underappreciated and I love how she’s the opposite to Grundy. She looks child-like but is very crafty, mature and knows how to get what she wants, while Grundy is physically strong and big enough to bully his way into anything he wants, but is very simple and child-like and would rather watch the birds. XD)

@theednygma (An awesome Ed Nygma and I love how Grundy is so unsure of everything yet still goes along for the ride as a support. XD)

@sleightlyoffhand (BUNNY MAN! Okay the idea of Josiah monching on carrots in Grundy’s pocket makes me smile so much. XD)

@thanagrian (BIRD-NOSE! Honestly every time I think of Grundy and Shayera I get the feels big time. These two definitely deserved more than just two episides to give them a unique friendship.

(I love that STAR Labs mission so much in Injustice. XD)

@the-arkham-librarian ( I love Eliza so much! She’s crafty, stubborn, sweet and kind and just cares about everyone so much when few don’t. Grundy grew so attached to her I swear she’s like his little sister at this point. XD And he’s totes the best uncle along with Eddie.)

@fatherdamned ( I LOVE YOUR RIDDLER OMG! He’s so snarky but man he is SO DAMN FUN to write with! Grundy is there for his green friend, no matter what!)

@fartemis-crockpot

( I freaking LOVE Artemis and Grundy, especially in the Injustice Society stuff. Yeah Grundy’s been a butt before but he genuinely likes and cares about her and the rest of the team and I’m like....

Look at these bunch of a-holes. Yeah they’re a family and even if they’re bad.....they’ve got each other. And that’s what counts. C:)

@powerhours/ @lastofmars (Green dad? Green dad. I love your J’onn so much and I’m like *throws Grundy at green dad* Here give this disaster some love. XD)

@gothamdad (YET ANOTHER AWESOME BATMAN. :D)

@redsleuthed (TIM! I love Tim and I swear these two should talk more because Grundy doesn’t WANT to fight and I think just letting someone hear him out would help him immensely.

Plus that stuff with Freeze? Poetic cinema.)

@themusespace

@12thlevel​ (On this blog we stan socially awkward green boi with angery grandpa genius mastermind. XD)

@pluckyingenue

@seekthedarknesswithin (SHADE! I love Shade in Justice League where he constantly throws Shade at everyone so you can imagine how excited I was to see Shade on Tumblr! We haven’t done much but man.....even Grundy was excited to see an old friend from the Injustice Society/ Injustice Gang.)

@youstolemycoat (Okay, hands down, Nick Necro is so much fun to plot with. His Robin verse is so fun too and poor Grundy tries to help but a certain birdy won’t let him. XD)

@ufotm (Tiny alien baby. :3)

@thetrigonborn

@kitfreeman

@partcfyouruniverse/ @diamondcladclown ( An awesome mun and my goodness her Harley is EPIC! I love the metas about Harley too and you just GET HER. And that????? Is the sign of an excellent writer and mun.)

@bigbadkillercroc ( I love your Croc and the brotherly bond he has with Grundy! It’s so refreshing to see these two bonding instead of Grundy tearing off Waylon’s face like he did in the Solomon Grundy mini-series. :C)

@blizzardmuses (I LOVE YOUR MUSES OMG. Your Batgirl?????? I ADORE HER. I love Freeze as a member of the Birds of Prey and I love tossing Grundy at your muses because the guy needs love and an excuse to smash.....and I really love both lol.)

@starfirechan (You’re Starfire is so freaking CUTE! I love how she and Grundy get along so well since they’re kind of two misfits that aren’t very well-versed in city life. XD)

@gotham-crusader/ @maximummuses (One of the best Batman and Damian Wayne RPers out there! I have a lot of fun with our threads and even if they fizzle out there is so much heart to them that they’re some of my absolute favorites no matter what muse I put on. C:)

@teufortsquidman (PRAWN! Okay, a giant mega-zombie and an Eldritch abomination? Yeah they’re gonna be good pals lol. XD)

@tragedybcrn (Hands down one of the BEST Batman RPers I’ve talked to and plotted with. I love how Bruce helps Freeze and even Grundy try to be better than just crooks. Grundy though has had so many bad experiences that he can’t trust anyone anymore unless there is some SERIOUS help. But he’ll learn to at least try to trust Batman.....because Batman was genuinely nice to him.)

@krygothite ( I freaking LOVE your Bane! We haven’t written much but FFFFF0yeah he’s epic. XD And Grundy is kind of nervous about bringing Bane to Slaughter Swamp because Bane is tough but not kaiju-sized gators and snakes tough....

Or....maybe he is.....let’s test him. >:D)

@batvvmn

@redwinefangs (VAmpire Batman? Vampire Batman. We have an epic trifecta of vampire Bats, Freezy-wolf and zombaby Grundy and I LOVE it. These three are so much fun to plit ideas around. XD)

@bclaur

@stcrshnes

@titanicscionofthestars ( I freaking LOVE Sara! All across my blogs I love her and the way you write her! And I swear her reaction to Grundy being impaled????? MY HEART. ;A;)

@jcinthedance  (JERVIS! Okat for real I love the image of Hatter and Grundy just enjoying a tea party at the asylum and being weird dorks. XD)

@adventurepunks (I absolutelky LOVE your Zatanna! She’s so fun and I’d love to plot more with her! :D)

@shesquiinnsane

@laughter-in-white (YOU????? Are??? Like the BEST Joker. Hands down. Your Croptop J is so much fun to plot with and he’s funny and being dramatic for Bats. And Grundy is like ��yeah he’s crazy but he’s my crazy.’)

@yourfavoritesidekick

@smartvulpix (* glomps on you for being epic*)

@thehouseofivo (Your Freeze and Julian are AWESOME! Love throwing my guys at them both lol)

@lil-miss-romano

@sweet-tea-solly

@slauhter

@occultsleuth

@wiisectrpillar

@wonderlandcarpenter

@gunborn

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 14

Somehow someway you had ended up spending the night in Toby's room. What had started out as sitting next to him turned into laying down next to him. And after a while of no talking or movement, just the steady sounds of breathing. You more or less closed you eyes for a minute.

Before you knew it you were waking up to sun in your face. And found a blanket haphazardly thrown onto you. Though honestly you probably just moved a lot in your sleep. A quick glance around the room tells you you're alone and by the looks of it have been for a little while now. Weirdly there doesn't seem to be a clock in the room and when you go to check your phone the battery is dead.

'Oh God what time is it?' you worry as you gather yourself to leave the room in search of a clock.

Even though you have the strongest suspicion that you're already late for work. Fuck Nate is gonna kill you. You hope you don't get fired for this. That doesn't really seem like the Cowell way but you really don't want to risk it. No where else in town would pay the bills plus give extra cash for doing jack shit.

Just as you closed the door behind you you see Toby and Connor walking up the corridor. Toby has two bowls in hand and his steps falter a bit when he sees you.

“Shit did I wake you up?”

You can see the veins in his arms as he tenses, poor guy must have a tic coming on. You hold your hands out to give him the option of handing them over so he can relax. With no hesitation on his end he does just that.

“No? I don't think so, I just woke up. What time is it?”

Toby's hands jolt in place. A large tremor of movement, thankfully you took the bowls from him so he wouldn't have splashed...cereal? Your confusion must have shown because you get a nervous laugh in response.

“It's like eight twenty or something.” seeing you visibly deflate he adds, “Barry told me to tell you you're excused from work today.” He took a bowl back from you and placed a hand at the small of your back to push you back towards his room. Apparently done with having a conversation in the hallway and letting your breakfast get soggy.

“Barclay.” you remind him, your efforts award you a shrug, “and are you serious? Because making me late for work wouldn't be very funny.”

He plops on his bed and a bit of milk sloshes out of the bowl dropping on to the sheets. In the back of your mind you think about how Barclay more than likely is going to ban Toby from the lodge for anything other than an emergency. At least if he ruins the bed by dropping food all over it...actually you're pretty sure Jake's mentioned there being a rule about eating in the rooms.

“I'm serious, you can go ask him yourself.” his face flushes as he shovels a spoonful of Captain Crunch into his mouth, “twey shed somfingu bot ah ahpawawgee for da kid”

You give Toby a sneer as you process what he just said. Even normally your brain didn't always process what was said to you properly and Toby speaking with a full mouth certainly didn't help in any case. But you can kind of gleam a bit more context from his red cheeks that your spontaneous three day weekend is thanks in part to Jo hanging out with you yesterday.

Really you didn't mind that she hung out with you. But you would accept the apologetic day off for her attempting to give you a love life. You aren't one of her gossip stories nor do you wish to be.

“First, gross dude. Second, I'll take it.”

He snorts, “Watching me chew through the hole in my face is ne-neat but me talking with my mouth full is where you draw the line?”

“Honestly I never even thought of that.”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at how dumb that must have made you look. Geez you were such a dork sometimes. On the other hand it seems like that must have been the funniest thing Toby's heard in a while as he roars with laughter. Soon your chuckles turn into full blown laughter from Toby's contagious mirth.

“I'll get out of your hair after I finish eating.” you finally say when the two of you calm.

“...you don't have to do that. I-i thought we cou-cou-could hang out?” he says sheepishly.

Toby tends to stutter when he's nervous you notice. Maybe this was to be expected you kind of did solidify that you both wanted to be friends. Of course that would mean opening up to hanging out together on purpose more often.

“I'd like that! Did you have something in mind?”

The room goes quite, well more accurately Toby goes quite as you finish your cereal. Looks like someone hadn't thought this far ahead. At least you aren't the only dork in this room or this friendship for that matter.

Toby's dark eyes scan around the room, not really looking for something while he thinks of something you could do today. Instead of just staring at him like a creep you turn your attention to the rottweiler looking at you with hopeful eyes. Connor's eyes briefly moving towards your bowl where a tiny bit of milk sits and then back at your face. Licking his chops as he looks you dead in the eyes.

Having a pretty good idea of what he wants you look for Toby's bowl. If it was on the ground that'd be a good indication that Connor's allowed a bit of cereal milk if it was on the bed well then you'd still have your answer.  And sure enough right next to Connor's butt is an empty bowl.

Yup, Barclay is so gonna ban Toby from the lodge.

Throwing out any thoughts of the lecture you'd get if Barclay were to find out you let a dog eat from his bowls you place the bowl in front of Connor. Who sits in his position and won't stop making eye contact with the bowl. Tail going a mile a minute as he stares at his prize in anticipation. God he really is the best boy in the whole world.

“Thank you Connor.” you whisper to the dog before he attacks the bowl.

As the pup rips into the left over cereal milk, which wasn't even that much, you can't keep yourself from flapping your hands right by your chest. The fast movement seems to catch Toby's attention and brings him out of wracking his brain for ideas. Giving you a moment to just enjoy the happy stim he just watches. It isn't until Connor has bounded over to you letting you pet him as a 'thank you' for giving him a treat, that Toby speaks up.

“Is there...what's there to do here?”

Looking at Toby as you shake Connor's ears around, you don't immediately say anything. Honestly thinking of just what the two of you could do in this small town. Something that wouldn't prove to be too distracting and maybe give the two of you a chance to get to know each other better. Something without too many interruptions or things to get you off topic.

“Wanna go get a slushy?”

Toby's brown eyes cut as he stares at you unimpressed.

“I kno-rrow that we're in a small town but, 's not that small.”

“Oh no it's actually smaller.”

He rolls his eyes with a huff ready to bite in with a snarky remark no doubt until he catches your eyes and the serious expression. He stares at you, eyes darting across your face looking for a sign that you're joking.

Thankfully you aren't one to leave a friend in the dark.

“Tobias, the gas station Tim works at is the only one for this town.”

“That can't be right, it's not even in town. What about...” once again Toby's eyes shift as he tries to think of any other gas stations within Kepler.

When he comes to the conclusion that you are indeed not fucking with him and Kepler does just have the one gas station his shoulders slump. Almost like he's in shock that he hadn't caught that sooner. You can feel the tinkling sensation of a tic coming up, at the base of your neck. Timing it mentally as you watch Toby go through the stages of grief you miscalculate and ruin your tic.

Head jolting into your right shoulder rather than jerking above it. Letting out a small “fuck” at the fact that you're about to be in an uncomfortable sensation, not totally unlike when you chase off a sneeze but still do need to sneeze. You feel the tic at the back of your head but know it won't be going away anytime soon and all thanks to your hubris.

Looking back at Toby you find he's moved on from the single gas station fact and is looking at you mildly amused. Briefly you wonder if he's ever chased off a tic and felt the uncomfortable sensation you're now dealing with. That leads you to ponder if he's ever even felt the anticipation of nerves before a coming tic. It's not really a painful sensation but discomfort sometimes goes in hand with pain so maybe CIPA affects that feeling too. You'll have to ask, but first you have to shut his stupid face up.

“Shut it.”

“Didn't say anything.” he smirks.

His smiles are really growing on you. They feel special and very genuine despite the awkward nature of his facial movements.

“Hey wait, the mini mart doesn't even have a slushy machine.” he says as the realization finally sets in.

“Yea we have to drive to another town for one. So far Franklin has the best slushies but it's like two hours away.”

You lean your weight back onto your hands watching as Toby's wide eyes stare at you in disbelief. Actually in this light you really can't tell if Toby's eyes are blown wide or in their normal state. Judging from the way his lips curl over his teeth you figure they must be as he stares stunned by something you've said.

“Do you seriously drive two hours for a slushy?” the disbelief in his voice is thick, but not thick enough to cover the thinnest hint of amusement. Maybe even pity.

“Not all the time, sometimes its only like thirty. One night I actually drove five hours without realizing it...though to be fair I did get lost.”

Lost in your thoughts on that particular night some how you'd ended up in Point Pleasant. Instead of a slushy you'd gotten a Mothman themed iced coffee. A nice trip over all but one you didn't want to go on at the moment.

Coming back to the present in time to catch Toby flopping back on the mattress his curls bouncing up over his face as he did so. He let's out an exaggerated groan.

“Still, Brian's got the car today.”

Pfft that's not an issue.

“I have a car.” you say plainly.

That must not be the issue because Toby raises himself onto his elbows to look at your lax form on the carpet. Leaning back on your hands with Connor splayed across your lap looking ready for a nap. Toby opens his mouth to say something before shutting it and looking off to the side. He seems to collect himself quickly but not enough to look at you.

“Uh..I, that's not really the...” well maybe he hadn't collected himself that much.

Brow furrowing as you squint at the man before you. The two of you don't know a lot about each other but from what you've noticed Toby has some hang ups about drivers and driving. Although he's let you drive him home once that doesn't mean he was comfortable with it or wanted a repeat performance. And while you don't consider yourself a bad driver you'll spare Toby the difficulty of admitting he isn't comfortable with you driving.

“You can drive.” dark brown eyes are on you the instant the words spill from your lips, “You've driven my car before. Plus I don't mind I like not driving.”

His eyes dart from you to Connor and back up into your face. Even though they're darting slightly you know he isn't such evaluating your expression. He's thinking and weighing his options.

“You sure?”

And with no hesitation at all, “Absolutely, you've driven it before.”

Though he hadn't been thinking of that particular issue with being given the choice of driving your car. It did bring up another insecurity before hastily stomping it into the ground. He has driven your car, albeit once, before and you are giving him explicit consent to drive it again. Regardless of his tourette's, Toby honestly can't believe you have such blind faith in a person you've just befriended. Then again that's friendship isn't it.

“Ok then...let's go?”

After a nod from you Toby grabs Connor's gear to get him ready for the drive. Meanwhile you take the dishes back downstairs to the kitchen, letting Toby know you'd meet him by the door. Unsurprisingly Barclay is in the kitchen when you get down there to place the bowls into the sink.

Seeing as it's just the bowls and spoons in the sink you decide you can wash them before placing them in the sanitizer rack.

“Mornin'.”

“Good morning.”

“Basket's on the table.”

“Thanks.”

A quiet settles over you two and you can feel Barclay's brown eyes trail towards your form every few seconds. Finishing the dishes you turn, leaning your butt onto the counter, to face the lumbering man.

“Can I help you?” you raise a brow at him. Clearly he had something more he wanted to say.

“I, I just thought we were closer than that.” he sighs.

Okay what now? Your confusion goes ignored as he continues to speak.

“Seriously YN, you didn't need to sneak away last night if you wanted to spend the night here, and with your boyfriend. I wouldn't have judged.”

“My who? Tobais? He's a friend!” you whisper scream in case Toby is near by. God could at least save one of you this embarrassment.

“Really YN? From the things I'm hearin' you two are a bit more than friends.”

“Ok seriously where are you getting your info from? We haven't done anything. Like just YESTERDAY we agreed we were friends. We've known each other maybe a month?!”

“See that's why this is confusing, you don't touch just anyone. And suddenly you're handsy with some new kid.” Barclay had the decency to start whisper screaming with you. He's gesturing vaguely towards the rest of the lodge before bringing his hands before him and flailing them away. As if to say 'what am I supposed to do with this now?'

“He's neurodivergent!” you say bringing your palms up in front of you.

“So are Jake and Aubrey.”

“And I high five Jake so much.” throwing your arms outward to indicate how much you two high five. “Plus he gets a hug nearly every time I see him.” hands brought back to emphasis this point.

Barclay thinks on that for a bit, “Point taken,” he stands from his hunched position and crosses his arms over his chest, “so y'all aren't dating? Nothin' happened last night?”

“No and no.”

“Don't have to deep clean the sheets today.”

“Gross and no.” best keep the milk droplets out of this, you'd really like to leave the kitchen sooner rather than later. Preferably with no lecture about hygiene and the importance of respecting other's property.

Barclay looks down at you scanning your face for something you aren't quite sure of. But you have a feeling he's treating you like a child for a very specific reason.

“I'm not a virgin.” you deadpan as the man before starts to sputter.

His eyes wide with disbelief. So he really thought you were a virgin this whole time? You wonder who else thought this, you hoped they wouldn't try to confront you about your nonexistent relationship.

You'll just never understand why people assume you're a virgin and why they try their hardest to butt into your life when they think that way. This topic tends to put you in a sour mood and you can already feel it on your face. It's disgusting how people can't mind their business about baseless assumptions.

“Jeez sorry YN,” he does look it as he rubs the back of his neck, “it's just you've never shown an interest and I guess we all got swept up in the possibility of seeing you happy.”

“I am happy?”

“I mean in a relationship, happy in a romantic relationship.” He claps his hands gently on your shoulders. A touch you've gotten used too, had you not wanted it you would've taken a step back.

“Kirby's not in a relationship.” you point out.

“Kirby's gross, and you're adorable.” he chuckles at your glare, “a-dor-a-ble.”

“I will bite you.” he lets go of you with a laugh.

“We're just...trying to keep you safe.” he sighs, and though you don't understand what any of their weirdness has to do with “keeping you safe” you nod. Just to get this over with faster.

“Can I leave now? Tobais and I were gonna get slushies.” he didn't need to know your plans but you didn't want him assuming you two were sneaking off for a date.

“Yea yea, sorry for keeping you.” he leans against the counter as you grab your basket and head out of the kitchen and towards the main door.

Toby and Connor were already waiting for you. If the swaying of his weight was anything to go by they'd been waiting for you for a bit. Seeing you coming his subconscious movement stops and he opens the door. Keeping it open for you.  You lead him over to your Soul as you look through the basket for the keys.

“Keys?” he questions as you pat your pockets.

Toby stops walking with you as you begin to panic. You've lost your keys. Before you voice that though you look through the basket once more, placing it on the hood of your car so you can use both hands to check. His eyes follow you and are caught by a gentle swaying.

“You are a serial killer's wet dream.”

He opens your passenger side door and comes out holding your keys that had been in the ignition. If the blank look he gives you is anything to go by he's not impressed.

“I,I,I was in a hurry!” you say flustered that you did something so stupid. His expression doesn't change.

“Could you pop the trunk please?” you ask not looking in his direction.

The click of the lock is all you need to hear before you rush around him to place the basket in the back. As you do you catch sight of the deer skull still in your trunk. With everything going on you hadn't been to see Madeleine for a mount for the guy. You'll have to remember to stop by her shop this week.

Toby had already gotten Connor situated in the back by the time you sat down in the passengers seat. After buckling in and plugging your phone in to charge you stare ahead of you waiting for Toby to start driving. When you look over at him you see he's staring right back at you with a brow raised.

“Yes?”

“Where are we going?”

Yes the key detail of any road trip, the driver needs to know the destination. Unfortunately for you and Toby you've forgotten to tell him one crucial detail. You drive with no sense of direction. And you relay this to Toby. He looks seconds away from getting out of the car and claiming he's never seen you before much less ever been friends with you.

He takes a deep breath and collects himself.

“Y'know what Brian's worse with directions.” he says more to himself than to you.

He calmly puts the car in gear and heads off to town. No input from Connor, you may have chosen a really good day for this drive. Your phone hits one percent as you pass Resort Row. You know the Hornet's Nest is coming up and that intersection leads to the interstate despite not having legible signs.

“Hey when you get to the Hornet's Nest swing right then drive straight, we'll end up on route 3 onto the interstate.”

“Hornets' nest?”

“It's a skate/stunt park. You'll see it after we get away from the mountain.”

Just as you said Toby saw the Hornet's Nest as he turned onto the road leaving the mountain. By the time you were on route 3 your phone had charged up to seven percent. Enough to turn it on and put on a playlist. You put on one of your sea shanty and folk punk combos.

Toby hasn't even let the song get thirty seconds under way. “No vetoed, we are not listening to sea shanties.”

So he does have music preferences, fair enough. You switch to a playlist with a more chilled electric vibe that has a few oldies tossed into the mix. Toby hasn't heard this playlist before and you are determined to learn his music tastes today.

“Wait wait wait, so you'll listen to folk punk but not sea shanties?”

“How are those even related?”

“They are literally the same thing.”

The two of you continue to bicker back and forth about how similar, or different, shanties and folk punk are. Occasionally it's broken when you read a sign, noticing Toby's horrible squinting, to see if you're on the right route to...well you don't know the destination Toby's been ignoring most of the exits for the past forty minutes though you're sure you two could find a gas station with a slushy machine at any one of the surrounding towns.

You don't mind though you're really enjoying the ride. The soft sounds of the car cutting through the wind at seventy three miles an hour. And the dull hum from the engine falling into the background as They Might Be Giants plays softly through the radio. With a majority of his focus being directed to the road  and the handful of other cars around you, your conversation is limited to topics that don't require much thinking. Really you've just ended up playing twenty questions with the other pulling uno reverse.

Not life altering secrets or deep talks...well until the question was favorite romantic comedy.

“How is Venom a romantic comedy?” Toby laughs after you answer.

“They kiss!” Toby just snorts.

“No Venom in Anne's body kisses Eddie.”

“Yes Venom kissed Eddie. Romance.”

You hear the murmur of 'oh my fucking God' come from Toby as you giggle in your seat. Having been egged on by that simple phrase you continue.

“Eddie is always giving Venom chocolates.”

“Oh yes, sorry, that's very romance.” Toby laughs out rolling his eyes.

“Thank you, I'm glad I could enlighten...” you pause as a sign for the next exit catches your eye. Had you two already driven two hours? Time really does fly when you're having fun. “Hey next exit, Franklin.”

“Thanks got it.” this time he turns on the blinker to get over into the exiting lane.

“What gas station am I looking for?” smart man. He's stopped asking for specific directions and is now asking for a land marker.

“Giant baby.” the car comes to a stop at a red light and Toby takes his eyes off the road to face you.

“...is this...will I just know when I see it.” “When you see it” you say the last part in unison with him nodding solemnly.

To his credit Toby has gone a long way with your weird antics, despite being your official friend for less than a full day. Keeping up with this pattern he doesn't ask anymore questions about this giant baby, keeping his eyes peeled for anything worthy of that title. His valent efforts are rewarded not even ten blocks from the turnpike.

“Is that...”

“Giant baby.” you nod knowing he sees the giant opposum decal in the window of the beat up gas station.

Opening your glove box you remove a spare mask for yourself before offering a sealed in package one for Toby. Who readily takes it after he parks your car in front of the store. Turning to look at you, you can read all the skepticism on his face. It's funny how this is where he questions you, your destination and not like the way over here-or the moment right after you told him you had no sense of direction.

“They have the four divide mega slush.”

“What the hell is that?”

With a coy smile you put on your mask and exit the car waiting at the front for your friend to get his shit together. He doesn't take long to follow you, Connor's lead in hand, into the gas station.

For as dingy and beat up as it looks on the outside it isn't bad once you step inside. Might actually be cleaner than the mini mart in Kelper. Toby glances around taking a mental tally of all the patrons in the store and their positions. He does this a bit. Just hyper aware of everyone when in enclosed spaces.

Dragging him over to the slushy machine after acknowledging the cashier's greeting. Showing him the four divider mega slush cup you demonstrate how it works. Choosing the only three flavors you like and adding a random extra of the three into the forth slot.

The face he makes when you stick the straw in the middle is priceless.

Toby demonstrates how a slushy should be made. Grabbing the single cup and over filling it with cherry flavored ice. He doesn't pick up a straw and you two make your way to the counter.

Since Toby drove here you had no problem paying but he was quicker to get his wallet out and hand the cashier a ten for your slushies. They give him back his change and you two wind up back in the car, taking off your masks.

You take a long sip from you drink.

“I can't believe we drove for two hours for you to just wreck your taste buds.” a playful disdain in his voice.

“Not 'we', you.”

He cuts his eyes at you before shaking his slushy into his open mouth. Guess he couldn't use a straw when he was missing part of his cheek. No suction there.

“So?” you say adding the questioning lilt to your voice.

He shrugs, “It's good.”

“Worth the drive?” He shakes his head.

“Nah - drive made it worth it.”

[badacts]

human shield

The grocery store at midnight is pleasant in a dreamy, sterile way - uniform, brightly coloured, the quiet only broken by someone’s top 40 playlist just loud enough to make out the words.

Dick, coasting along with one foot up on the back bar of the cart, is the one to break it when his phone goes off in his pocket. “Hello?”

“Grayson.” It’s his superior, Milan, terse as ever. It’s his day off, and he immediately jumps to Arkham breakout, and then, someone’s dead. Christ, he’s paranoid. “We need you to come to the West End mall. There’s a hostage situation, and the hostage-taker is asking for you.”

“I’ll be there,” Dick replies, abandoning his cart in the middle of the aisle without a thought. “Who is it?”

Of course, he’s already talking to the dial tone. It’s the impetus he needs to move fast, though.

It’s a usual set up - a cordon, cop cars and cops everywhere, worried or curious civilians hanging around outside along with some reporters that call to Dick as he jogs by. He waves a little to the familiar faces he sees, and then sees Milan standing at the back of a van.

“I’m here,” Dick says. “What’s happening?”

There’s a police negotiator Dick vaguely recognises sitting in the van, and he gives Dick an impatient look. “What’s happening is that this guy won’t let us do our job because he wants to talk to you.” Clearly not a fan, then.

“Isn’t your job to try give the guy what he wants?” Dick asks, hopping up into the van. There’s a computer screen with the mall CCTV pulled up on it, showing a couple of guys with rifles loitering in the main part of the mall.

“We’re just about to get footage of the hostages,” Milan says. She’s a slight, no-nonsense black woman who Dick would propose to in an instant if she weren’t definitely batting for a team that firmly doesn’t include him. “Thankfully they’ve holed up in a shop with an external wall, because we can get access via the vents for a look.”

“Great,” Dick says. “Any idea who the guy is?”

“Marcus O’Reilly,” Milan supplies, and hands him a slim brown file. “Just got out of Blackgate after serving his time for armed robbery and drugs charges.”

“Doesn’t sound familiar,” Dick says, flipping the file open. A sullen face with a shaved head stares back. The guy doesn’t look familiar, either.

“You arrested him,” Milan supplies. “Warehouse bust, eighteen months ago.”

Dick thinks back. “I arrested fifteen people that evening.”

“Well, this one seems to have found the experience pretty memorable,” Milan says drily. “Usually I would assume he’s holding a grudge, but, knowing you, you probably gave him a particularly memorable pep talk that he’s hoping to hear one more time before he goes back to prison.”

“It’s nice to be appreciated,” Dick says, and then gestures to the negotiator’s setup. “Do you mind?”

The negotiator sighs but gives his seat up for Dick, hopping down from the van. Dick hopes he sticks close - this isn’t exactly Dick’s general wheelhouse, for all the practice he’s had at talking people down.

“We’re getting a sniper up on the roof,” Milan says matter-of-factly before he picks up the phone. “He’s not going to have a great shot, though.”

That’s true enough. The interior storefronts are all glass, as is a large portion of the western wall, but the eastern one, where the hostages are, is concrete. Whoever is up there will be able to see okay through the shop displays and window signage, but it’s a fair distance from one side to the other.

Dick picks up the stupid bright red negotiator phone and dials the number scrawled across the paper in front of the computer. It rings a few times before it clicks live.

“Hi,” Dick says, when O’Reilly doesn’t speak. “This is Detective Grayson.”

“S’up,” comes the reply. Despite the name, the guy sounds as Gotham as they come, and not all that old. Dick flicks his eyes back to the file and translates the birthdate to someone younger than him. “I wanna talk to you, man.”

“We’re talking right now, Marcus,” Dick says, leaning back in the chair. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Face to face,” O’Reilly corrects. “Come down here.”

“Are your friends going to let me in?” Dick asks.

“They will if I tell them to.”

Dick squints at the computer thoughtfully. “We need to talk about the hostages first, Marcus.”

“What about ‘em?” O’Reilly asks.

“If I’m going to come down there, I need a bit of a goodwill gesture. What about letting some of the hostages go free?” That’s his goal here. Get the innocents out. Everything else is just icing.

O’Reilly laughs. “Get real, Detective. You come down here, or I start killing ‘em one by one.” Then he hangs up.

“Nice guy,” Dick says, putting the phone down. “How far off are we on the camera?”

“Five seconds,” Milan says, and then, “There we go.”

On the screen, a new window pops up of slightly clearer footage. The hostage-takers - three of them, all visibly armed - are facing away from the wall, and so away from the camera, just inside the wide-view lens’ reach. The hostages are all sitting on the floor, lined up against the storefront. The shop stock has been shoved to the side to clear the space. It looks like a homeware store - the shopfront is stocked with blankets and pillows and vases.

Dick figures the centremost figure has got to be Marcus. He’s got one of the hostages on his knees, closer than the others, and in easy reach of both his hands and the handgun he’s holding. The hostage is turned towards the camera, their face just visible behind Marcus’s hip.

“Fuck,” Dick says, dumbstruck and loud enough to surprise even himself.

“What?” Milan demands sharply.

“That’s my brother,” Dick says.

*

He can see it, in his mind’s eye. Tim in the wrong place, at the wrong time, knowing that there’s shit-all he can do as Tim Drake-Wayne and not much more he can do to get out of the situation and be not-Tim-Drake-Wayne when there are five guns versus him and a bunch of civilians.

Tim wouldn’t sit and let the others get threatened. He’d volunteer himself as the most valuable hostage, tell them his whole life story to make sure they knew the precise monetary value of his continued being alive. 

Or, worse, he’d talk until he got their attention and was singled out that way, neglecting to mention at all that he was a rich man’s rich son. Going by the bruise blooming over his jaw, Dick is going to take door number two this time.

Milan had said some things about conflict of interest and safety and ‘not getting yourself killed’, but they both know the only option was for him to go. He straps on a bulletproof vest over the thin WE body armour he always wears at work. Hopefully none of the grocery store security cameras had been pointing at his car while he changed earlier, or some rent-a-cop must have gotten an eyeful. 

He debates, and then straps on his piece as well as the electrified escrima that looks just like a standard-issue folding baton. It’s not going to save him or anyone else against five guys with high-powered weapons, but it’s better than nothing.

He gets a SWAT escort to the front doors. At least they, unlike the uniform GCPD guys, don’t look at him like he’s a bomb about to go off. The captain - Jenkins, Dick thinks - waves him off with a cheery, “See you soon,” not entirely belied by the way he’d assured Dick and Milan both they’d come in as fast as possible, guns blazing, when necessary.

“See you,” Dick says, and ventures forward alone. The mall is a mess from where people fled earlier - it’s one of those late-night places, where the cinema and restaurants stay open until midnight or so. It’s a Saturday, and even in Gotham there would have been some crowds.

He winds his way through to the shop and slips past the men guarding the door - not in full body armour, he notes, but their faces are covered with balaclavas - without a word. 

“Hey,” he says to announce his presence. One of the hostages, very quietly, sobs. He looks around quickly, checking for injuries, and doesn’t find anything serious. He saves Tim for last, meeting his eyes quick and away before looking to O’Reilly. “I’m here. In the flesh.”

“In position,” Smith, the sniper, says over the comms.

“Visibility is poor,” Oracle says in his other ear. “It’s starting to rain. He’s not going to be able to see shit.”

“Detective Grayson, everybody,” O’Reilly says, tone mock-warm. He’s the only one not wearing a mask. He’s pulled Tim up as a proper human shield, and they’re almost of a height. The half-inch he has on Tim is going to make shooting him from the rooftop across the street almost impossible in these conditions.

“You’ve got me,” Dick says calmly. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I lied,” O’Reilly says. “I don’t really want to talk. I just want to kill you.”

“Okay,” Dick replies. “Well, I’m here now. Why don’t you let the hostages go?”

O’Reilly moves too fast. The gun goes off, and for a moment Dick expects pain. Then, from behind him, someone screams.

He’s shot one of the hostages. Belly wound, bleeding badly. Marcus says, cold, “I’m not here to make bargains.”

“You’ve got something against shoppers?” Dick asks. He’s still calm. So far.

“To be honest, I just don’t care.” He smiles like someone who should have been in Arkham, not Blackgate.

“Let them go,” Dick says. 

O’Reilly tilts his head. Then he grins. “You know what? Fine. All of you at the front? Go. And take that guy with you.”

The hostages don’t move, staring wide-eyed between him and the other hostage-takers and Dick. The one with the gut wound is panting and clutching at his stomach, rapidly going grey.

O’Reilly shouts, “Go!” Then he fires a bullet into the ceiling.

One of the fluorescent lights overhead shatters in a spray of plastic. The hostages, though - they run, two of them barely pausing to hoist the injured one between them. Then it’s just the five guys with guns, Tim, Dick, and a puddle of blood.

“Are you going to let that one go, too?” Dick asks.

“Not a chance,” O’Reilly replies. He’s got an arm slung around Tim’s neck.

“He’s a kid,” Dick says, steadily. He doesn’t think that, really, or at least not most of the time. But in jeans, sneakers and an oversized hoodie, Tim looks young.

In his ear, the SWAT team are reporting on the condition of the hostages as they’re whisked to safety. Dick blocks it out.

“You think I don’t watch the news? That I can’t go to a library?” O’Reilly says. He’s smiling, small and mean. “I’m not an idiot. I know exactly who this guy is.” And he jams the muzzle of his gun hard against the side of Tim’s head. “This is your little brother.”

Tim doesn’t flinch. He says, “Adopted brother.”

There’s a cold silence, and then O’Reilly moves the gun from Tim’s skull - quick death - to somewhere down near his kidneys. “Alright, smart guy.”

Dick gives Tim a look that says, shut up. Tim, being smarter than their other siblings, does so.

“Me ‘n’ my brother, we were both at the warehouse that night. Got arrested and thrown in Blackgate, matching sentences,” O’Reilly says.

“Bet your mom’s really proud,” Dick says before he can stop himself. 

O’Reilly ignores him. “Billy had debts, though. And I couldn’t protect him, in there, not like I could out here. And guess how that ended up for him?”

“William O’Reilly’s dead,” Babs fills in flatly, at the same time O’Reilly bellows, “He’s dead! And it’s your fault!”

Dick had already seen where this was going, but he’s not exactly keen on the confirmation. “I didn’t make you rob people at gunpoint, Marcus.”

“He’d be alive, if it weren’t for you,” O’Reilly snarls. “But guess what? Here you are, and here’s your brother. So I think it’s my turn to make good tonight.”

“What about your friends?” Dick asks. “What do they want out of this, exactly? Because I don’t think I’ve done anything to them.”

“These guys?” O’Reilly asks, suddenly amused again. “I made some friends in high places when I got out. Show ‘im, boys.”

As one, the figures on either side of O’Reilly pull their balaclavas off. And underneath, they’re wearing masks that are slitted eyes and the curve of a beak. Owls.

Talons.

“Shit,” Babs mutters, and then, “Hurry it up, Black Bat!”

“Smith,” Milan is saying over the comms, “Do you have a shot?”

“Maybe,” Smith says. He sounds laconic, but snipers almost always do when they’re working. “Not a great one.”

So they’ve got back-up incoming. But by the look on O’Reilly’s face, they don’t have long.

“They don’t want anything,” O’Reilly says, “But, if you ask me? I think they’re probably just as happy as I am to see you both bleedin’ out on the floor.”

“Smith,” someone prompts.

“I don’t have the shot,” Smith says, “I repeat, I do not - ulp!” Then there’s nothing but silence.

“Get eyes on Smith,” Milan demands to someone else. “Now.”

Dick, aware they might have another Talon in play, aware he might be about to get shot in the back, says, “So, what’re you waiting for, exactly?”

“I’m not waiting,” O’Reilly says, “I’m just savouring.” And he raises his gun back to Tim’s head.

Tim, who’s looking at Dick with a placid facial expression, his eyes asking, what now? Because they’re not Nightwing and Red Robin. They’re Dick and Tim, and what they can do is limited by the clothes they’re wearing, and by the eyes watching them.

It doesn’t matter, anyway, not really. Neither of them is faster than a bullet. 

The gun goes off. Dick doesn’t close his eyes.

He’s expecting blood, and he gets it. What he’s not expecting is two more gunshots straight afterward.

The owl masks shatter. And O’Reilly, missing the top of his skull, drops to the ground and just barely doesn’t drag an in-one-piece-Tim with him.

“Don’t ever say I don’t do anything for you, Timmy,” a rough, half-robotic, familiar voice says over their comms, there and then gone. 

Jason.

“It’s a mask!” someone is yelling over the comms, but Dick’s already flying forward and catching Tim up in his arms, pushing him towards the wall and covering him with his body.

“What the hell were you doing here?” he demands, pulling Tim’s head against his shoulder, a show of sibling comfort that abruptly becomes real when he realises Tim is shivering. 

“Christmas shopping,” Tim mumbles into his chest, and Dick, despite himself, laughs.

[1-2-4sudoku]

Snapped Restraints: Chapter Three: Crumbling

 On Sunday, we visited Dick and his wife Barbara in their house in Bludhaven. 

I sat between Tim and Damian in the car, which I thought was brave of me. Cass was behind us while Alfred drove the car and Bruce rode shotgun. 

I didn’t like to leave Nadia alone (probably because my dad tried to kill once or twice), so I’d brought her with me. I allowed Damian to hold her while Tim napped on my shoulder.

Damian’s whole face lit up as Nadia began to climb up his shirt. I’d lived with him for three weeks now, and it was the first time I’d heard him laugh. It was a beautiful sound.

“Damian!” Bruce snapped, making his youngest son jump. “Give it back to Juliette!”

“She. Not it,” I corrected him bitterly, then called her back to me. 

“You shouldn’t have brought that thing along in the first place,” grumbled Bruce.

“I told her she could,” Alfred interceded on my behalf. “Nadia is sanitary, intelligent, and more polite than you, Master Bruce,”

Buuurrrrrrnnnnn. “Thank you, Alfred.”

Dick and Barbara, it turned out, lived in one of those thingies where all the houses are connected at the sides but it’s not an apartment. The door was answered by both inhabitants.

I was shocked when Damian voluntarily hugged Dick. “I missed you, Grayson.”

“I missed you, too, buddy,” he replied earnestly. He hugged each one of us tightly. I decided that he gave the best hugs.

Barbara was just as nice as her husband. Everyone bent down to hug her in her wheelchair, except Cassandra, who just knelt and hugged her head on her knees and a huge smile. They must have been incredibly close. I knew Cass visited here a lot, since Bruce didn’t bother to send her to school. 

When Barbara greeted me, she said: “You must be Juliette. Dick showed me how fast you can fold origami. You have talent.”

I blushed and thanked her. She had red hair and kind, intelligent green eyes behind round glasses. Her eyes smiled at me.

The family spread themselves throughout the living room and kitchen. Damian followed Dick everywhere, with Tim not far behind at times. I sat on the floor by the coffee table and showed Cass and Barbara how to make origami fairies.

After only around fifteen minutes, the doorbell rang for a second time. “That must be Jason!” Dick said happily.

I looked up grinning from ear to ear. “You mean as in Jason Todd? Redhood the mob boss?”

“You did not,” Bruce growled. Fucking Gargoyle Face again.

“This is a family day, Bruce,” Barbara reminded him, sounding irritated.

“And Master Jason is family,” Alfred added.

The doorbell rang again in a way that suggested someone was leaning on it heavily.

“He’s getting impatient,” Dick said. “I better let him in.”

I followed him to the front door. Opening it, he revealed the burliest man I’d ever seen who wasn’t Bane. He was tall, had black hair, and wore a leather jacket.

“The fuck is this?” were his first words as he gestured to me.

“Language,” Alfred chided him from the couch.

“The newest addition to Bruce’s ever increasing child collection,” Dick told him.

“I’m Juliette Lativian,” I informed Jason. I stuck out my hand and we shook. His hand almost mine almost completely.

“You have a rat in your pocket,” he noticed.

“You have guns in your holsters,” I replied cheekily.

“Jason!” Dick hissed.

Jason just laughed. “I like this kid Julie.”

I wagged my finger at him, but I was smiling. “I don’t answer to Julie, Jules, or Wayne.”

“I have a new favorite,” Jason announced.

I had a new favorite, too. He didn’t make fun of me for Nadia, which shot his credibility way up. Adding to that was the fact that he clearly did not like Bruce.

We stayed at the Grayson residence for two hours, and I spent the whole time with Jason. We talked about everything from gun laws to mob bossery to books to origami. With me, most things ended up being about origami.

Before we left, I gave him a fox that I folded. “Consider this a reminder to visit me.”

“I won’t need it,” he said. “But I’ll keep it because I like it.”

When damian, Cassandra, Tim, Alfred, Bruce and I got home:

“Don’t talk to Jason. Don’t interact with Jason. You’re not allowed to be friends with Jason. You’re not allowed to welcome him into this house, either.”

The next day, Tim came down for breakfast wearing his MAKE WAY FOR THE GENIUS shirt.

“Change,” Bruce said. He barely even looked up.

“Jason got that for you right?” I asked.

“Yes,” Tim said on his way to the coffee machine. His hair stuck up like Einstein’s.

“SO CHANGE.” Bruce demanded. “NOW!”

Tim flinched, muttered: “Yes, Bruce”, and left to do that. With one kid left to pick on, Bruce turned to me. “You’ve got the filthy rat on your shoulder.”

“Nadia isn’t filthy, Father.” That was Damian, saying the words in my head before I could spit them out.

Bruce rounded on him. “If it isn’t filthy, why not let it share your bed? Why not let it walk through your food?”

He made a grab for my beloved rat, but drew his hand back quickly when he heard approaching footsteps.

“Master Damian, have you fed Titus yet?” Alfred asked.

“Actually Alfred, I think I did today,” Bruce said.

Damian stood up very fast with very wide eyes. “I’ll check,” he replied with a pale face.Then he strode out of the room at godspeed.

Didn’t Damian have a cat once? I wondered.

Before we left for school, I gave Nadia to Cassandra to watch.

“Guard her with your life,” I whispered urgently. I didn’t want to know what Bruce would do to her on a bad day.

Cassandra nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for me.

“Promise me that you’ll guard her with your life,” I insisted. “You have to say it out loud. I know you can. Just say it to put me at ease.”

“I promise.” she amended.

“Thank you.” Reassured, I could now leave for school.

I was in seventh grade, Damian was in fifth grade, and middle school had recess together. I guess neither of us had bothered to make friends, so we found ourselves sitting quietly together on the swings. I broke the silence.

“I know it hurts.”

Damian replied defensively, with a bitter note to his voice. “If you’re going to tell me to stand up for myself, don’t, because I hate hypocrites. I know he hits you to.”

“Then I guess we’re both just a little too used to people treating us like shit.” After I said it, it surprised me how blatently true it was.

“Well, you know who hurt me first,” Damian remarked. “Who was it for you?”

“My parents,” I admitted. “Both were drug addicts.”

A girl with pink highlights in her hair appeared near us. “Were your parents high when they decided to have a kid?”

“Leave her alone,” Damian exacted.

“Fuck off!”

I got up. “Why don’t you go crawl back into that nasty little  hole you came from?”

Then a kid standing next to the pink haired girl who might have been her boyfriend barked: “Don’t tell her what to do!!’, and he pushed me back hard.

I fell on the swing I was standing in front of, only I slid back on it further. Then gravity took effect and pulled me forward with a lurch. My shirt rode up and the hot plastic swing burned my exposed back. 

I’m told that Damian attacked those two and beat them up pretty badly. I didn’t see it though, because I curled up in fetal position and hid my face. It was an instinct to protect myself that I couldn’t shake needing.

I’d been with Bruce for a month now and somehow it was schoolyard bullying that coaxed me into a panic attack so bad that it was more like a nervous breakdown. I suppose it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I wouldn’t let anyone touch me, and I hit them if they tried. Even Damian. I cried and screamed at the top of my lungs for everyone to stay away from me.

I’m told that everyone else involved was taken to the office. One of the guidance counslers managed to calm me down slightly and take me to her office, where I hid under a table and fell asleep. 

All I really remember is sheer sheer terror, anguish, and frustration as I tried to coax flashbacks to the back of my mind. I thought it was going to swallow me whole if I didn’t get it out of my head. I guess that just exhausted me so much that I conked out.

Sleep was blissful. Bruce was not. He didn’t talk the whole ride home. I sat in the backseat with Damian, who clutched my hand. I think he was trying to comfort me, though.

At home Bruce took me and Damian to the kitchen. Alfred wasn’t home. He must be buying groceries or something. I don’t think Cass is home, either. At least she has Nadia with her, I thought. And Bruce was seething with fury.

“DO YOU REALIZE HOW YOU MADE ME LOOK?!?!?” he bellowed. The counsler must have figured out that most kids don’t suffer debilitating breakdowns when someone else pushes them. Fuck.

“Not good,” I squeaked.

Bruce’s veins bulged and his face twisted itself into the likeness of a gargoyle. He pointed a finger. “THANKS TO YOU TWO SHITS, I GOT TO SPEND 30 MINUTES TALKING TO THE PRINCIPAL ABOUT YOUR HOME LIFE AND FAMILY PROBLEMS!!!!!!”

Damian’s lower lip trembled. He was trying to be strong, but he was still a ten year old. “I-I’m sorry, Father,” he stuttered.

“SORRY ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH!” Gargoyle Face thundered, and he punched Damian in the stomach twice. The second blow was severe enough to make his poor son puke all over the linoleum floor.

He yelled at him for that, too. “LOOK WHAT YOU DID, YOU LITTLE FUCKER!!!”

I was tired of being terrorized, and I was tired of seeing others hurt. I tried to lunge at Bruce, but I slipped in the puddle of vomit fell, and bit my lip hard. Gargoyle Face grabbed me by my hair and started pulling me up. Shrieking with pain, I scrambled to my feet so that I wouldn’t be scalped.

I fell into line just like that. Pain was the price I always paid when I tried to stand up to bullies.

Gargoyle Face forced me to look at him, forced me to look into the eyes of a demon. “Come with me.”

He half dragged me to my room, and all I could think was: At least he’s forgotten about my baby brother.

That sorry excuse for a father was trembling with fury as he pointed his finger at me. “This is what you get for making me look bad!”

Then he tore the place apart. He tossed everything off my bed, overturned my furniture, ripped apart my closet, and gathered my paper creations. He threw them in the dormant fireplace and lit them ablaze.

Seeing that was like having my soul burned. I couldn’t care less about my clothes or furniture, but it devastated me to see my world destroyed. The colorful origami transformed any hostile environment into a realm of beauty. 

Burning my origami was like burning my house to ashes. It takes ages to create a home, but the most incredible of them can be destroyed in less than five minutes.

This was never going to be different, the flames taunted me. It was the ultimate betrayal. Tears ran down my face, but I didn’t make a sound. I knew better than that,

Then I peered out the window and saw Alfred’s car pulling up. The kind old butler’s arrival gave me courage, and my anger was quickly burning through my fear and replacing it. “Stop it.”

Bruce whirled and stalked toward me, then leaned in dangerously close. I could feel his breath on me. “What was that?”

“Stop it. You can’t just treat your kids like this and claim to be a hero.”

“I could kill you with one blow, Jules. What makes you think you can talk to me like that?”

“Three words. Alfred is home.”

He looked out the window and turned pasty white.

“Don’t push me over the edge. If you do, I swear on that’s holy I will destroy you. And. My. Name. Is. Jul-i-ette.” I barely breathed those words, but I made sure that Gargoyle Face heard me.

He put on his human face quickly and left me to clean up his mess with the little resolve I had left.

As I remade my bed, I barely contained my anger. As I put away my clothes, I promised myself that the warning I gave Bruce was the last one he was getting.

[silver-snow-writes]

The thing with Jaytim and a lot of cats

This is a not! fic campfire I did on a discord server that I’m porting over here, I hope y’all enjoy the fluff. @inkyubus and @salazarastark helped a bit towards the end

———————————————————————

Okay. Tim is canonically a cat person and it has annoyed the hell out of me that Tim never got pets but Damian gets a menagerie, so I always give him a cat when given the opportunity by plot

Tim finds a pregnant kitty on his fire escape, and takes her in. He’s calling on Selina and googling everything he can after processing that oh right this is going to be a big change, and goes out to the pet store incognito to grab supplies

But he’s at the Crime Alley theater house apartment so Jason is out doing an early evening patrol, spots him, and gets curious. What’s he doing around here in civvies?

Jason tails him to the nearest pet shop, and back to his house, where he spots him playing with soon-to-be mama cat. He wants to be mad that Tim’s in *his* territory, clearly living here, but it’s hard to get too pissed when he’s giving a happy kitty belly rubs and smiling like that.

Jason’s seen him do confident Robin grin, dangerous “I’m gonna fuck you up” battle smirk, calming civilians smile, even polite Wayne heir curve of the lips. But smiling joyfully like this, eyes uncovered, clearly laughing a little as the cat demands treats? Something goes warm in his chest

Meanwhile Tim is feeling tired and stressed bc his life is a busy exhausting and traumatizing mess lately but it’s hard to think about the bad stuff when he has mama cat and her litter to think about. She’s clearly been a pet before and is so friendly and cuddly that it breaks his heart to think someone abandoned her. He gets her to the vet to check for a chip and get her looked over, and when there’s no chip that cements his decision that fuck it, he’s keeping her

He totally names her Arwen bc there is no way in hell a kid that was a DM for DC’s D&D equivalent isn’t a fan of LoTR. Arwen has to get mites and fleas removed but once she’s flea free she’s sharing his bed

Jason. Is still keeping an eye on him, subtly. Staying out of range of Tim’s security systems and Babs’s cameras and telling himself it’s all because he can’t just let the Pretender go unsupervised in his turf. And sure that’s part of it. But Tim’s actually pretty good about sticking to patrolling his own territory and that helps somewhat

And well. Jason regrets what went down during that mess after Bruce died. Was kinda shitty of him to repay Tim letting him out of jail by stabbing him in the chest and all. He’s a big awkward goober dealing with some guilt now that he’s more settled, so he has trouble figuring out how he should approach Tim and let him know that Jason is aware that he’s holing up in Crime Alley

He’s gotta do something eventually, right? Ah well. Can’t hurt to just. Watch him, every now and then. See him through the windows being a goofy new cat dad and a disaster of a teenage vigilante

(Jason, honey, things really have come full circle)

Eventually things get set in motion. LoS assassins attack Tim’s apartment, Arwen runs away bc scared kitty, Jason jumps in to help fight the assassins and then they go track down the poor baby. And some bonding and pining bc Jason is developing such a crush and also hot damn Tim fighting and winning is a sight to see

Tim is understandably wary about Jason but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt when he’s being helpful and even offering to assist him in finding Arwen. She’s due to give birth soon!

(It’s been about a month now and she was already about midway through when Tim first found her. Domestic cats are pregnant around 57-65 days, so around two months)

They end up running around asking the ladies of the night and various others if they’ve seen a pregnant long-haired tabby cat. Eventually they go back to Tim’s apartment as dawn is breaking, only to find Arwen is on his fire escape again and in labor

They get her inside, clean up, and Tim sets her down in his bathtub, petting her soothingly and fussing over her. Jason is still helping out and he just goes with it, gratefully accepting a can of Zesti and medical supplies

I foster cats irl so I know how this tends to go pretty well. Within an hour of labor starting Arwen will finish pushing out kitten #1 and each of the rest will come around 15-20 minutes apart. She’ll clean them up and eat the placentas, which is gross but perfectly healthy, and soon enough they’ll be nursing from her while she purrs and rests

Tim looked into it and well. He’s been around human deliveries before and this was honestly so much quicker that it was a relief

(He was there when Steph gave birth and has likely helped deliver babies as Robin bc pregnant women can and will go into labor when shocked, like being held hostage or getting hurt in an accident)

He sits back with a sigh and pays his full attention to Jason now. He hasn’t been fully ignoring him persay, still keeping an eye and an ear on him just in case, but he’s been. Surprisingly nice and nothing but helpful, Tim isn’t sure what to think of it. Jason’s staring at the kittens but turns to look at Tim when he notices that the younger vigilante is assessing him

There’s a long moment of increasingly awkward silence as they stare at each other while the newborn kittens are mewling and Arwen’s drifting off to sleep. Jason is the one that finally breaks the tension, rubbing the back of his neck and looking back at the kitties.

“So. Pretty cute cats you got here”

Jay immediately cringes inside because yeah, it’s true that the cats are cute as heck, but c’mon Todd address the scenario

Here’s inky’s contributions:

"yeah real cute when they're covered in blood and placenta" tim retorts and then wants to smack himself.

"it's ok. they're still adorable through the bodily fluids," jason's smile is so fond when he looks down at the kittens tucked tight into the curve of arwen's body that tim thinks he must be dreaming

he's never seen jason with an expression even close to fond or happy since he came back. jason is stroking arwen's tail with just the tip of a finger, smoothing down the crooked fur.

(Back to me again)

He hasn’t seen him look so happy since he was. Since he was Robin, and Tim was just a fanboy with a camera

(Inky)

"you like cats?" the question breaks jason out of his reverie.

"they were just always around. alley cats are cranky fucks, but city strays are never that afraid of humans. they'd come around and beg for scraps until someone chased them off."

tim hummed, scritching arwen between the ears. "you were pretty good with her just now."

there was a tiny flush on jason's cheeks. "might have invited one in for a few days when no one was home. chased her off before she could get too attached."

(Me)

“I always wanted a cat, but my parents hated them and Alfred said no. I found Arwen on my fire escape hiding from a stray dog and I just had to take her inside”

Eventually Tim offers Jason a cup of tea and Jason asks about the cats more. Arwen’s name comes up and leads into a talk about Lord of the Rings, bc they both read the series and loved it. And a debate comes up over something they saw differently but it’s still friendly

Maybe Tim liked the movies’ take better than Jason did and they argue the merits vs flaws of the adaption. But they both agree that the Hobbit movies are way less faithful to the book

By the time they’re done with the tea and their conversation the sun is up and Jason ducks out to go home, feeling butterflies in his stomach at the memory of Tim smiling and laughing at him. Tim is reminded why he used to have a crush, but still very watchful bc he thought things were getting better before BftC happened

He goes to sleep and wakes up to Arwen balefully glaring at him bc her breakfast is late

Tim got injured during the LoS fight and aggravated it while looking for his poor kitty, so in the end he’s not really up for patrol that night. He stays in his apartment and alternates between looking over case files on his laptop and checking on Arwen and her babies. He lets Oracle know he’s off rotation for the night and to let Cass patrol his territory bc she’s visiting, and settles in to do some hacking to find out why Ra’s sent the assassins last night and talking with Lonnie about Unternet developments

He’s in the middle of hacking a phone’s datastream to find footage taken by a teenager that noticed skulking shadows outside the windows when there’s a knock on his window, and he checks his security system expecting one of the Bats to have gotten past his sensors. It’s Jason out on the fire escape with a couple of bags in hand. Tim is confused, but decides to roll with it again. He’s just hoping that the duffle isn’t full of heads

Turns out Jason went looking and found the League’s newest base in Gotham, liberating some paper files, a couple choice weapons, several USB drives, and a laptop that had belonged to the squad leader. He offers to let Tim work with him on this because he wants “those sycophantic assassins out of my territory dammit” and obviously Tim’s involved anyway

They both check on the kittens every now and then. They’re still too little to be doing much but nursing, sleeping, and crying, but god are they precious. And Arwen is a tired but proud mama cat

Now let’s see...Arwen’s a long-haired brown tabby with green eyes (not at all based on my baby Zelda, of course *shhh*). The kittens will be named after the Hobbits—Frodo the black kitten with big blue eyes, Sam the ginger tabby, Merry is white with golden patches, and Pippin is the tiny little tabby runt that mewls loudest

At one point Jason picks them all up and makes a joke while carrying the four of them that they're taking the hobbits to Isengard. It makes Tim snort and then wince bc the injury that kept him in was to his ribs

Tim gets sick. Not like immediately but a couple days to a week or two in, and Jason ends up playing rough but sweet nurse while Tim tries to hide that he’s ill from the Bats. Maybe the ribs issue leads to him getting a cold that nearly turns nasty bc no spleen plus two incidents of death plague and numerous other things mean his immune system’s wonky

Tim’s a stubborn little shit who won’t stay in bed unless Jason picks up Arwen and the babies to put them on the bed with him. He’s not cruel enough to move the babies when they’re sleeping on him, is he? But he can still glare at Jason

Jason might sneak a few pictures. For blackmail, he tells himself. Sure Jason, we believe you. It’s certainly not because it’s adorable and makes you get the warm fuzzies

It feels significantly less adorable when Tim pukes in the trash can and drips snot everywhere but the bedhead and flushed face and some semi-coherent feverish babbling about Star Trek and ornithology helps

Jason remembers Alfred’s cooking lessons and puts them to use, Tim lets out an obscene moan when he starts eating the soup that makes Jason choke on his own spit like a dork

“Did you get this from Alfred? It tastes just like his!”

“Yeah, he taught me how to cook, before...y’know.” Jason is very proud of himself for remembering it correctly, if a bit sad that he hasn’t spoken to Alfred since before he died

“Oh.” Tim blinks owlishly at him, unsure how to respond. “Well. You did a way better job than I would have.”

Arwen chooses that moment to demand attention, meowing stridently and rubbing her face against his hand until he goes along with it and scratches lightly under her chin

———

And that’s all, folks. Will eventually turn this into a proper fic and give it an ending, but I hope y’all enjoy it as is for the moment

[take-u-to-the-moon]

Stay - Jason Todd

Warning: a few swear words.

☆

Being back in Gotham after all this time feels oddly comforting. But that might be because of the familiar feeling of fighting alongside Dick Grayson. Even if neither of us says it out loud I know that we both miss Gotham. We both jump at any chance we get to come back when Bruce needs our help, we barely ever say no.

This time however he didn't wanted is here but in the end he had no other choice. Gotham has been hectic the past few months because of many reasons but someone calling himself the Red Hood stood out. And things just gotten worse after Bruce found out who's behind the mask. Jason Todd. His, well mire like our partner. My best friend. We both fought alongside Batman. We were trained by him. But after Jason's death I just couldn't go on, I wanted out. But life got in the way and things happened so now I'm still here fighting lunatics but in a different city, with different people.

But now I'm home, fighting a group of smugglers with the help of Nightwing. We worked together well, always have been so the fight was over soon. Smugglers knocked out and tied up. Now we waited on a rooftop for the GCPD to arrive to the scene. That's when Bruce called Dick on the comms. Not us, only Dick.

"I'll be there," he said and was ready to leave without am explanation. I'm not having any of that. I stood in front of him with my arms crossed.

"It was about him, wasn't it?" Ever since I arrived back in Gotham a few days ago Bruce and Dick made sure my paths didn't cross Jason's. And honestly I'm sick of it.

Sick sighs before answering. "Yes."

"Just let me talk to him," I almost begged.

"He's not who you remember him to be," he said.

"Of course not. I'm not the same either and I only moved to a different city but he... he died."

"Give us some time. Maybe we can-"

"What? Make him hate us more? Because that's the only thing the two of you achieved so far."

"I know it's hard for you," he smiled at me sadly. "But please stay here. I have to go and help Jason."

"Go," I said maybe a bit to harshly. "But I won't stay here and do nothing. I'll find something to take care of. Maybe go to Penguin's club and make sure he's not doing anything stupid."

"All right," Dick smiled at me, now cheerfully and jumped off the roof. On his way to Jason. And I followed him with a smirk.

Dick trusts me too much sometimes. It's just makes lying to him so much easier. I just want to see my best friedn. Is that so much to ask for?

Nightwing finally reached his destination. A shady alleyway. How original. I fell behind a bit, waiting on a rooftop slowly creeping closer to them. I was close enough to hear the fight and then a few gunshots. I really hope Jason was the one who fired them and not someone else.

After the gunshots it turned quiet. What if he got hurt? Or worse? I slowly crept closer to the edge if the roof and looked down into the alley.

They were there. Nightwing an Red Hood. Arguing. He wasn't wearing his helmet but a mask still covered his eyes. But there was no mistaking it even if I could only see half of his face. I know his features. This is Jason Todd.

"I'm not going back to the manor," Jason grumbled.

Duck was ready to protest but I sile.tly dropped down beside him making them both turn towards me ready to attack.

"Jason," I breathed out in disbelief. He was really there. Standing in front of me.

"You said you were going to Penguin's," Dick said with a dumbfounded expression. I glanced at him but kept my attention on Jason. He had his right hand tightly pressed to his left shoulder, blood slowly seeping through. He was the one who got shot.

"I lied, genius. I don't care what the hell is Oswald up to," I said, my attention back in Dick. "What happened?"

"He thought he could take on a group of men but got shot," came the answer. "I offered to take him back to the cave si Alfred but he refuses to go."

"I don't need Batman's help. I can deal with this on my own," Jason muttered.

I rolled my eyes and decided to ignore him. I turned to Dick. "Go back to the cave. I'll deal with him."

Jason scoffed and Dick was about to protest.

"Go," I said firmly and without any more fighting he left us alone.

"Let me help you," I turned to Jason, slowly walking up to him.

"So you care?" He asked with hate lacing g his voice. "Surprising, knowing how fast I was replaced."

"He didn't want to replace you. He wanted me off the streets too. Actually, I wanted to be off the streets too."

"Neither of those things worked out," with this he turned away and started to walk off.

I ran in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. "Firstly, Bruce didn't really have a choice. Tim figured it all out, our identities. So Bruce couldn't keep on ignoring the poor kid," I rambled on. Desperate to tell him everything I wanted before he disappeares to somewhere. "Secondly, I never asked for this but life is shit and bad things happen for no reason. I happened to be in an explosion and ended up in a coma then woke up with superpowers that I couldn't control. So I moved to Central City because the only metahuman I know, who was able to help me lives there."

Jason stood in front of me silently, trying to process everything I just told him.

"I didn't know that you-"

I cut him off. "Just let me help."

"Fine, but I'm not going to the cave."

I sighed. "Just take me to wherever the hell you're staying."

Hell might be a nicer place than the apartment that Jason lives in. It's literally just a room, a hole if I'm honest, with a bed in one corner. Jason sat down on his bed and he took of his mask. Blue eyes were now looking at me in wonder.

"How exactly do you plan on helping?" He asked with a smirk. "If I remember correctly you were never good when it came to patching someone up."

"Magnetic manipulation," I explained. I took off mask top and sat down next to Jason. I gently helped him remove his jacket and helped him out of his shirt.

"This is not how I imagined you removing my clothes," he said with a cheeky grin.

I rolled my eyes at him.

"There's a first-aid-kit in the bathroom," he pointed to a door that I haven't realised was there.

"Oh, so you do have a bathroom?"

"Not all of us can live in castles, princess."

"You're forgetting that I don't like at the manor anymore," I muttered as I went to get the first-aid-kit. I sat back down next to Jason and placed the box between us.

"This is going to hurt like a bitch," I warned him. "But it will be over soon."

"No further explanation on what you're about to do?"

"Nope."

I raised my hand up to his shoulder, my palm inches away from the wound. I glanced at Jason and our eyes met. He gave me a hesitant nod.

I took a deep breath. I can feel the bullet in Jason's shoulder. All it needs is a little tug. Maybe more than a little if we consider the loud 'Fuck' Jason uttered as the bullet started it's way towards my hand. In a matter of seconds it was out of his shoulder and in my palm.

"You weren't lying when you said this is going to hurt like a bitch," he said with a laugh.

I didn't say anything just silently started cleaning his wound and stitching it up. He barely flinched now.

"So what happened to you, Magnet Girl?" He asked. I rolled my eyes at his choice of nickname.

"Very original," I muttered while I picked up gauze from the first-aid-kit. "Never call me that again. It's much more complicated than you think."

"As you wish, princess."

"I'm going to let you to bleed out."

"Fine by me."

I groaned in annoyance and wrapped up his wound with the gauze.

"You didn't answer my question," he said in a much lighter tone.

"I was in am explosion," I started to explain. "We don't know who cause it. Could be Scarecrow with one of his freaky experiments or maybe the Joker got bored. Who knows? Anyway, there were no other survivors and I slipped into a coma and no one knows what's wrong with me. Months later I wake up and I have these superpowers that I can't control and Batman has a new Robin. They tried to helped but Bruce have no idea how to handle metahuman powers so we turned to the speedsters for help. Long story short, I moved to Central City and became the new partner of the Flash."

"But you're back in Gotham now."

"For a while. Bruce needed our help but I do miss Gotham," Jason snorted at that. "Yeah, I know it's a hellhole but it's the hellhole I grew up in. And I really miss the complete shock on Ed's face when I know the answer to I e of his riddles," I said with a giggle.

"Then stay."

I looked at him in surprise, waiting for further explanation.

"I need someone to remind me of who I've been and you know me better than anyone else."

I smiled at the thought. "I guess someone does have to keep you out of trouble," he rolled his eyes but a smile was playing on his lips. "But-"

"But what?" He cut me off, slightly annoyed.

"Bit I'm finding us a new apartment."

"Us?"

"I'm not going to let you continue to live here," I scrunched up my nose in disgust. "And it's not like you can make the money for a better place."

"You underestimate me."

"Oh do I?"

"Maybe not. But are you willing to stay in .y shitty apartment just for one night?" He asked with a sincere smile. The first real smile I saw ever since we met in the alley.

My heart skipped a eat at the thought of spending the night with Jason. I missed him so much and now he was back. Sitting in front of me very much alive. I can't walk away from him not even when I have to stay in this hellhole.

"You can get the bed," he offered.

"No. You're injured. It's a small wound but still. We're sharing."

Now Jason was the one who looked surprised.

"What? I'm not letting you to sleep on the floor with shot wound and I am definitely not sleeping there either," I stated and without another word I put the first-aid-kit back in the bathroom. When I came back Jason was already I'm the bed trying to find a position in which he wasn't hurting his shoulder. He ended up laying on his side. I climbed in too laying down facing him.

"Good night, princess," he said in a whisper and closed his eyes.

"Good night, Jaybird," I answered with a smile on my lips.

Things might not be the same as they were before and may never be again but this was still the Jason Todd I grew up with. I could still see that boy in the man who was sleeping beside me in this shitty apartment.

[talix18]

November 21

Yesterday Katelyn called to see if I wanted to hang out. Katelyn is the almost 22-year-old who I call my adopted niece but she’s something more than that. I lived with K and her mom from the time K was 18 months old until she was four-and-a-half so I was her de facto other mom. I know it’s just the slightest approximation of what parenting must feel like but I treasure the memory of her being satisfied with coming to me if Mom wasn’t available. Three-year-old K running towards me when I showed up to pick her up from daycare. The memory of the Christmas when all K wanted from Santa was to see her father and her mother and I couldn’t make that happen – talk about powerlessness. Watching her sing at her high school variety show remembering how I’d been too terrified to sing in front of people…

She inherited some things from me – her opinions and eagerness to share them is probably the big one, but she also, somehow, has come to love Def Leppard (I suspect that’s her boyfriend’s influence). You already know how Def Leppard introduced me to my first boyfriend. I can tell you exactly where I was and who I was with when I heard about the car accident that ultimately took Rick Allen’s arm. I remember that someone who worked at a music store called me to tell me Steve Clarke had died. Def Leppard was my third concert (1st: Asia; 2nd: Stray Cats) – I still can’t believe Mom let me go with Allen and some of his friends at 15. Some people have made-up imaginary friends – mine were real people.

I went up to see K at her mom’s place after work (Kate’s mom and her husband of a year and a week are still on their delayed honeymoon in Tennessee) and we talked about all kinds of things. She said something about Def Leppard touring with Motley Crue, which led me to the Crue documentary I just watched on Netflix over the weekend. I was a fan – saw them open for Ozzy once; had a poster on my ceiling for a while – but the milestones in their lives were vague memories. Of course Tommy was married to Heather Locklear and Vince committed vehicular manslaughter, but that was most of what I knew.

The documentary is an unflinching portrait of the toll drugs took on the band – specifically Nikki Sixx – but that’s not the part that really got to me. I know how addiction works. I had to stop the movie to Google what happened to Vince Neil’s daughter after her cancer diagnosis, which paid off as the next scene opened on her dead four-year-old body laying in the hospital bed. So now I’m having feelings about poor Vince losing his daughter after killing his friend how many years after the fact?

On the way home, after playing a Def Leppard song, the DJ mentioned the tour with Crue and I had to call Katelyn. We are definitely going, I assured her, now that I have even more emotions tied up with these people. I am definitely not thinking about the fact that “Crue called their friends in Def Leppard” to arrange the tour because I assume that means the Leps were also hard partiers and I’d rather not consider all the sordid debauchery that follows along. (Poison is also on the bill, and we’re all down with Bret since Rock of Love. Don’t threaten me with a good time!)

K and I also watched Mean Girls, which I had never seen, and I’m always happy to patch up a hole in my cultural reference knowledge. “Her hair is so big because it’s full of secrets” is everything. Feel free to welcome me to fifteen years ago.

I have to believe the increased meds dosage is making a difference. Tuesday alone I scheduled a doctor’s appointment (colorectal), an ultrasound (thyroid), a dinner/movie date with a friend, a massage, an eye exam, and a dentist’s appointment AND I enrolled for supplemental vision insurance. It seems like a reasonable amount to accomplish in one day, but I’d been putting off some of these appointments for months. Why is it so hard to pick up the phone and call someone? I will never be able to explain it. Trust me – I wish I could help people understand! The best I can do is recognize that I’m functioning more effectively and keep track of what I’m doing that’s different.

Yesterday I committed to flying to Boston to see a friend get married on New Year’s Eve. “Black tie optional”? Hell yeah I want to go hang out in that hotel and see that venue that my amazing friend and her intended are having a black-tie optional shin-dig in! I can’t imagine my lifestyle ever affording me such luxurious splurges on the regular so I need to take advantage of the opportunities when they manifest. Besides, I already have a dress that I got for a black-tie New Year’s Even anniversary party a few years ago; wearing it a second time makes it an even better value! (We don’t discuss how much money I ultimately spend on a wrap and statement earrings.) (Ack! I need to make an appointment with Katelyn for my hair!)

I haven’t seen Karen (the friend getting married) in FIVE years, which seems impossible, but there it is. Karen is one of my original gang of Webpeeps – Webpepes 1.0! Most of us met on a news aggregate website, got to know each other in the forum (4um elites represent), and created a new bulletin board to hang out in. At our peak we had about 150 members but the core group was about 40, and I’ve had the pleasure of meeting at least 30 of us in meatspace.

The first time I met Karen (GreenBeans/GB) was at her then husband’s 30TH (?) birthday party. Rider (PsiDefect), Tim (GasMasher), and I drove my car up to Boston from Philly (Tim and I drove up from MD) to surprise this dude we’d never met, and that cemented my friendship with both Karen and Ted (Law). Their marriage broke up some time ago, which I learned the weekend she and I got together in Orlando with Catrina (CatWritr) and CJ (Hajen). Which was somehow five full years ago.

The first time I met ANY of these nerds was…I don’t even know how long ago at the original Farkoasterfest. I lived with Katelyn and Vanessa at the time and V straight up took pictures of Rider and his license plate when he pulled up to scoop me and head out to Sandusky, OH. I do know I was working at SSA and it was relatively early in my tenure, so early-2000s? It was also probably the first time I spent an entire weekend with people not in recovery since I’d gotten clean. Several hundred miles away with nearly perfect strangers – who thought that was a good idea?

It turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Some of the people I met that weekend and after are straight up some of my closest friends. It was my first experience making friends as an adult, which is startlingly difficult to do. My first group of friends that didn’t start in our hometown or on campus or in recovery – people I connected with in a realm where all we had was the words on the screen and our wit.

Places I’ve since hung out with these people include Seattle twice, Cedar Point one or two more times, Northern VA, DC, PA, and Toledo. I’ve seen at least three couples wed and have almost ten kids between them. I dated the guy in Toledo for a few years. I flew out to Seattle for Andrea (BigOrangeCat/TheOtherAndrea)’s 40th birthday party and to visit her in the hospital before she died. We helped Amy (Hisey) mourn the loss of her nearly full-term daughter. We helped Joe (ThedNeedles) deal with his ex keeping his son away from him – some of his helped him with legal aid. We watched each other’s kids grow up and have kids of their own. Norm (Zorgon) just emailed to let me know he was in town (-ish –northern DC suburb) and wanted to connect but was laden with germs – we get together for a meal very few years when work brings him this way. Never let anyone tell you your online friends don’t count.

(Logging back in to the old bulletin board to count heads gifted me with a video of Mike (BitZero) (father of FarKoasterFest) smashing up some obsolete Fark hardware. Good times!)

I reached out to CJ and Cat to see if either one was planning on coming to the wedding to offer the other side of the king-sized bed I’ll be sleeping in in Boston and I’m glad I did. CJ’s got a handful of kids so money is always a concern and I’m paying for the room whether I’m alone or with someone else. We’ll be FaceTiming Cat at midnight and maybe during the ceremony too.

In fact, I’ve been suspiciously functional this week. Monday was meh, but since then I’ve had three good, productive days in a row. I have no specific plans tonight so I could go to a meeting, or I could go home and see if any of this momentum can be channeled into house projects. Coming up with a fictional framing device has given me the opportunity to figuratively walk myself through the necessary steps to get started. So whatever comes of this writing exercise, it’s been worth doing.

[violetsystems]

#personal

I watched most of the inauguration through Lady Gaga on Wednesday.  Regardless what you think about politics in America, we can all admit the moment changed decisively.  Or at least the side of us that don’t storm capitols with guns or anything.  My landlord stutters to find words for me other than “good” when I deliver the rent check early.  So by now, these kind of winds of change solidify something about me at least.  Regardless what you’ve heard about me people talk nonetheless.  Just like they talk shit about the president whoever it happens to be at the time.  America has always been extremely tribal.  You don’t have to watch Gangs of New York to figure that one out.  I live in a city with a well defined Sanctuary culture.  I’ve walked the walk and talked the talk the last four years.  Living under Trump with that kind of pressure and fear daily starts to turn neighborhoods into pressure cookers.  Everyone is on edge.  Nobody knows how to be nice.  Wednesday I decided to put my best foot forward in this new era and shovel the snow on the block.  It didn’t go unnoticed.  I definitely got some dirty looks which is something I’m used to by now trying to put some good in the world.  One of the gang members on the block came up to me later that day to thank me at least.  They don’t live here on this block but they also shovel the snow.  They’re named after a chess piece.  I’ve already told the story about footwork dj’s bragging they used to come over here and beat the crap out of them.  The savagery I’ve seen and heard about over the years doesn’t shock me.  Rich people have been pitting poor people against each other out here for years.  Some might call it the “Daley Way.”  Others might look to scandals surrounding machine politicians who’ve held offices for years on end.  Trump couldn’t get enough of calling us a corrupt city.  But generally he got away with a lot of dirty tricks on the ground here without much consequence.  Anyone with half a brain and street sense these days doesn’t trust much authority at all.  And yet I voted in this election pretty clearly for the current candidate.  So I do pay attention to the presidency a little more intently these days.  While watching some executive orders get signed the subject came up about the damage of what happened to people like myself.  It was a word I hadn’t heard.  The word was dignity.  Through the last six months, I seemingly lost it all.  My job, my entire friend network, the last twenty years of professional connections.  It vaporized as if it was never there in the first place.   Dignity is the right of a person to be valued and respected for their own sake, and to be treated ethically.  When I think about dignity it makes me cry.  Because it’s the thing I never had.  Most of us do not have it in this current climate even though we kid ourselves we do.  We don’t even bother to treat each other with dignity because we’re so busy looking out for ourselves.  Communities lose trust.  People become isolated and edgy.  Hope dies with the days that don’t change.  It is just me out here.  Or is it just us?  In that six month void of watching ancient history peel away and forget you even existed, I thought a lot.  I struggled and became something more resilient.  And I saw the same old problems staring back at me from a different vantage point I call home.  I kept my dignity intact paying the bills and keeping my mouth shut.  And yet things have not gotten much better other than my finances and my muscle tone.  I’m humble about everything by default because I’m still deeply hurt it was all taken away.  The dignity for others is pretty much linked to self respect.  Some people don’t know how to treat themselves better.  Some people don’t know how to be good because we reward absolute vapidity, selfishness and greed.

I will always strive to be good.  I’ve written here on my “vent blog” week after week to report that.  Only to have it joked about, ignored, copied, and dismissed by some people.  You can’t stop good connecting to the source.  If you stay focused and in the proverbial light you will some day make it through.  My birthday is next month.  A third birthday in a row where nobody other than my parents and the internet reach out.  One year I flew to New York during fashion week and spent the entire trip alone.  Of all the fourteen trips to Korea, none of them were with anyone but myself.  I’ve only had myself to rely on through all of this at times.  And yet through the process of trying to be better I’ve met better people.  Maybe through all this I’ve learned how to be a better person for people as well.  But for the most part I’m still just as invisible as I was.  Neglected and disrespected for years by people I trusted.  And whatever happened was a sort of forced letting go.  I was a black hole on a balance sheet during a pandemic.  My pension was a liability.  Friends that I still talk to now feel comfortable acknowledging that I was done dirty.  But that’s it.  No resolution.  No opportunities.  A period of intense exile.  Like I was being taught a lesson.  And the opposite happened.  As dumbfounding as it is to go through the entire process, I’ve found hope in bettering myself in small ways.  I didn’t close off or shut down.  I managed intense feelings of sadness and anger by pacing myself.  I wrote about what I felt week after week.  I made small corrections.  I added up my spending.  I tried to live my life without friends or company other than my cat.  A neighborhood exists around me that is persistent with characters of all backgrounds.  My mother is getting vaccinated next week.  Others will follow shortly after.  Chicago for the most part has adjusted to the hardships of the new normal.  We just keep pushing on like the song.  And yet people become callous, elite, and separate.  Two sides of a city.  The rich and the people who live and walk the streets here.  If you’ve held it down this long most people appreciate when you are still around.  And yet people around here are still deeply motivated by fear and scarcity.  America is the same way.  It judges people’s worth not on their singular talents but by comparison and control.  It’s nervous when you have the confidence to go it alone and embarrassed to admit it did so out of neglect.  America is worse.  Much like the army, it tries to break down your uniqueness for the benefit of the whole.  Herd you into groups that can be managed instead of celebrating the individual will.  The mediocrity that is celebrated is the celling in which you threaten to crash.  Everybody would rather sabotage your plans than see you succeed without them taking a cut.  Everybody would rather have a judgement to hang over your head when you creep past them in a race fair and square.  And when things start to get less dirty and the air clears, the history remains.  People still lie.  People still try to tarnish everything you have done out of a deep hatred.  A hatred that they couldn’t rub you out.  That you remind them how worthless they really are.  Being good gets you targeted time and time again by jealousy and lawlessness.  And I don’t want to be anything but good.

Lies and truth have their own infrastructure.  Blockchain as a technology is based on trust.  We keep secrets possibly because no one knows what we risk at the end of the day.  We tell lies instead of saying nothing at all because we feel pressured to be transparent.  Everyone wants to know every little thing for both good and bad reasons.  Being able to stand up to the lies and speak the truth can be subjective in a post truth era.  After all the things I’ve lost, I have no real time for games that are set up against me.  I play enough Hearthstone for that.  But communities are often to blame for proliferation of disinformation.  Sometimes people get manipulated.  Sometimes entire histories on a person get buried accidentally.  Sometimes people tell other people behind your back never to talk to you.  I’ve lived this.  I have never felt so isolated in my life.  As if the real intention was to break down my dignity to manipulate me further.  And largely that is what happened whether you want to process that or not.  I’m reminded when I deal with how fucked up my health insurance is that nobody really gives a shit.  But there’s a reason it persists.  And there’s no consequence to the lies that people uphold in the face of a fairly inconvenient truth.  We make a choice to support or ignore.  We make a choice to acknowledge the dignity of somebody being alive and in pain.  And I’ve seen people just walk away.  I’ve also seen people in my life grow closer in a way I cannot explain.  When I feel that feeling.  When I feel that love, I try to put more love back into the world.  I try to create a little bubble around me that protects all the good in my life I still have.  To make a place for us to all live with dignity regardless of what we believe, who we fuck or what kpop band we ship on the internet.  I literally fucking tried every day and then some.  And I literally have faced the worst kind of loneliness you could ever face.  Uselessness.  That whatever I do doesn’t matter much compared to what I used to be.  I used to be a slave.  A revenue generator for an investment scam maybe.  A body to manipulate for information.  A person to spy on all over the world without my consent.  I’ve lived all these situations in such damaging ways for years with no recourse and nobody to listen other than here.  Week after week on my vent blog people joke about behind my back.  No one really knowing that this is about the truest I could ever be with anyone.  And knowing after all the hell I’ve been through, that it matters.  What I say and what I write.  Because it’s the truth.  I am a good person.  I do try to be in the face of the worst kind of attack on my freedom.  They tried to take away my dignity.  They can lie about it all they want.  It doesn’t mean they’ll get anywhere further with me.  It’s already behind me.  That’s how you keep your dignity here in America.  By proving them wrong. <3 Tim

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 14

Somehow someway you had ended up spending the night in Toby's room. What had started out as sitting next to him turned into laying down next to him. And after a while of no talking or movement, just the steady sounds of breathing. You more or less closed you eyes for a minute.

Before you knew it you were waking up to sun in your face. And found a blanket haphazardly thrown onto you. Though honestly you probably just moved a lot in your sleep. A quick glance around the room tells you you're alone and by the looks of it have been for a little while now. Weirdly there doesn't seem to be a clock in the room and when you go to check your phone the battery is dead.

'Oh God what time is it?' you worry as you gather yourself to leave the room in search of a clock.

Even though you have the strongest suspicion that you're already late for work. Fuck Nate is gonna kill you. You hope you don't get fired for this. That doesn't really seem like the Cowell way but you really don't want to risk it. No where else in town would pay the bills plus give extra cash for doing jack shit.

Just as you closed the door behind you you see Toby and Connor walking up the corridor. Toby has two bowls in hand and his steps falter a bit when he sees you.

“Shit did I wake you up?”

You can see the veins in his arms as he tenses, poor guy must have a tic coming on. You hold your hands out to give him the option of handing them over so he can relax. With no hesitation on his end he does just that.

“No? I don't think so, I just woke up. What time is it?”

Toby's hands jolt in place. A large tremor of movement, thankfully you took the bowls from him so he wouldn't have splashed...cereal? Your confusion must have shown because you get a nervous laugh in response.

“It's like eight twenty or something.” seeing you visibly deflate he adds, “Barry told me to tell you you're excused from work today.” He took a bowl back from you and placed a hand at the small of your back to push you back towards his room. Apparently done with having a conversation in the hallway and letting your breakfast get soggy.

“Barclay.” you remind him, your efforts award you a shrug, “and are you serious? Because making me late for work wouldn't be very funny.”

He plops on his bed and a bit of milk sloshes out of the bowl dropping on to the sheets. In the back of your mind you think about how Barclay more than likely is going to ban Toby from the lodge for anything other than an emergency. At least if he ruins the bed by dropping food all over it...actually you're pretty sure Jake's mentioned there being a rule about eating in the rooms.

“I'm serious, you can go ask him yourself.” his face flushes as he shovels a spoonful of Captain Crunch into his mouth, “twey shed somfingu bot ah ahpawawgee for da kid”

You give Toby a sneer as you process what he just said. Even normally your brain didn't always process what was said to you properly and Toby speaking with a full mouth certainly didn't help in any case. But you can kind of gleam a bit more context from his red cheeks that your spontaneous three day weekend is thanks in part to Jo hanging out with you yesterday.

Really you didn't mind that she hung out with you. But you would accept the apologetic day off for her attempting to give you a love life. You aren't one of her gossip stories nor do you wish to be.

“First, gross dude. Second, I'll take it.”

He snorts, “Watching me chew through the hole in my face is ne-neat but me talking with my mouth full is where you draw the line?”

“Honestly I never even thought of that.”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at how dumb that must have made you look. Geez you were such a dork sometimes. On the other hand it seems like that must have been the funniest thing Toby's heard in a while as he roars with laughter. Soon your chuckles turn into full blown laughter from Toby's contagious mirth.

“I'll get out of your hair after I finish eating.” you finally say when the two of you calm.

“...you don't have to do that. I-i thought we cou-cou-could hang out?” he says sheepishly.

Toby tends to stutter when he's nervous you notice. Maybe this was to be expected you kind of did solidify that you both wanted to be friends. Of course that would mean opening up to hanging out together on purpose more often.

“I'd like that! Did you have something in mind?”

The room goes quite, well more accurately Toby goes quite as you finish your cereal. Looks like someone hadn't thought this far ahead. At least you aren't the only dork in this room or this friendship for that matter.

Toby's dark eyes scan around the room, not really looking for something while he thinks of something you could do today. Instead of just staring at him like a creep you turn your attention to the rottweiler looking at you with hopeful eyes. Connor's eyes briefly moving towards your bowl where a tiny bit of milk sits and then back at your face. Licking his chops as he looks you dead in the eyes.

Having a pretty good idea of what he wants you look for Toby's bowl. If it was on the ground that'd be a good indication that Connor's allowed a bit of cereal milk if it was on the bed well then you'd still have your answer.  And sure enough right next to Connor's butt is an empty bowl.

Yup, Barclay is so gonna ban Toby from the lodge.

Throwing out any thoughts of the lecture you'd get if Barclay were to find out you let a dog eat from his bowls you place the bowl in front of Connor. Who sits in his position and won't stop making eye contact with the bowl. Tail going a mile a minute as he stares at his prize in anticipation. God he really is the best boy in the whole world.

“Thank you Connor.” you whisper to the dog before he attacks the bowl.

As the pup rips into the left over cereal milk, which wasn't even that much, you can't keep yourself from flapping your hands right by your chest. The fast movement seems to catch Toby's attention and brings him out of wracking his brain for ideas. Giving you a moment to just enjoy the happy stim he just watches. It isn't until Connor has bounded over to you letting you pet him as a 'thank you' for giving him a treat, that Toby speaks up.

“Is there...what's there to do here?”

Looking at Toby as you shake Connor's ears around, you don't immediately say anything. Honestly thinking of just what the two of you could do in this small town. Something that wouldn't prove to be too distracting and maybe give the two of you a chance to get to know each other better. Something without too many interruptions or things to get you off topic.

“Wanna go get a slushy?”

Toby's brown eyes cut as he stares at you unimpressed.

“I kno-rrow that we're in a small town but, 's not that small.”

“Oh no it's actually smaller.”

He rolls his eyes with a huff ready to bite in with a snarky remark no doubt until he catches your eyes and the serious expression. He stares at you, eyes darting across your face looking for a sign that you're joking.

Thankfully you aren't one to leave a friend in the dark.

“Tobias, the gas station Tim works at is the only one for this town.”

“That can't be right, it's not even in town. What about...” once again Toby's eyes shift as he tries to think of any other gas stations within Kepler.

When he comes to the conclusion that you are indeed not fucking with him and Kepler does just have the one gas station his shoulders slump. Almost like he's in shock that he hadn't caught that sooner. You can feel the tinkling sensation of a tic coming up, at the base of your neck. Timing it mentally as you watch Toby go through the stages of grief you miscalculate and ruin your tic.

Head jolting into your right shoulder rather than jerking above it. Letting out a small “fuck” at the fact that you're about to be in an uncomfortable sensation, not totally unlike when you chase off a sneeze but still do need to sneeze. You feel the tic at the back of your head but know it won't be going away anytime soon and all thanks to your hubris.

Looking back at Toby you find he's moved on from the single gas station fact and is looking at you mildly amused. Briefly you wonder if he's ever chased off a tic and felt the uncomfortable sensation you're now dealing with. That leads you to ponder if he's ever even felt the anticipation of nerves before a coming tic. It's not really a painful sensation but discomfort sometimes goes in hand with pain so maybe CIPA affects that feeling too. You'll have to ask, but first you have to shut his stupid face up.

“Shut it.”

“Didn't say anything.” he smirks.

His smiles are really growing on you. They feel special and very genuine despite the awkward nature of his facial movements.

“Hey wait, the mini mart doesn't even have a slushy machine.” he says as the realization finally sets in.

“Yea we have to drive to another town for one. So far Franklin has the best slushies but it's like two hours away.”

You lean your weight back onto your hands watching as Toby's wide eyes stare at you in disbelief. Actually in this light you really can't tell if Toby's eyes are blown wide or in their normal state. Judging from the way his lips curl over his teeth you figure they must be as he stares stunned by something you've said.

“Do you seriously drive two hours for a slushy?” the disbelief in his voice is thick, but not thick enough to cover the thinnest hint of amusement. Maybe even pity.

“Not all the time, sometimes its only like thirty. One night I actually drove five hours without realizing it...though to be fair I did get lost.”

Lost in your thoughts on that particular night some how you'd ended up in Point Pleasant. Instead of a slushy you'd gotten a Mothman themed iced coffee. A nice trip over all but one you didn't want to go on at the moment.

Coming back to the present in time to catch Toby flopping back on the mattress his curls bouncing up over his face as he did so. He let's out an exaggerated groan.

“Still, Brian's got the car today.”

Pfft that's not an issue.

“I have a car.” you say plainly.

That must not be the issue because Toby raises himself onto his elbows to look at your lax form on the carpet. Leaning back on your hands with Connor splayed across your lap looking ready for a nap. Toby opens his mouth to say something before shutting it and looking off to the side. He seems to collect himself quickly but not enough to look at you.

“Uh..I, that's not really the...” well maybe he hadn't collected himself that much.

Brow furrowing as you squint at the man before you. The two of you don't know a lot about each other but from what you've noticed Toby has some hang ups about drivers and driving. Although he's let you drive him home once that doesn't mean he was comfortable with it or wanted a repeat performance. And while you don't consider yourself a bad driver you'll spare Toby the difficulty of admitting he isn't comfortable with you driving.

“You can drive.” dark brown eyes are on you the instant the words spill from your lips, “You've driven my car before. Plus I don't mind I like not driving.”

His eyes dart from you to Connor and back up into your face. Even though they're darting slightly you know he isn't such evaluating your expression. He's thinking and weighing his options.

“You sure?”

And with no hesitation at all, “Absolutely, you've driven it before.”

Though he hadn't been thinking of that particular issue with being given the choice of driving your car. It did bring up another insecurity before hastily stomping it into the ground. He has driven your car, albeit once, before and you are giving him explicit consent to drive it again. Regardless of his tourette's, Toby honestly can't believe you have such blind faith in a person you've just befriended. Then again that's friendship isn't it.

“Ok then...let's go?”

After a nod from you Toby grabs Connor's gear to get him ready for the drive. Meanwhile you take the dishes back downstairs to the kitchen, letting Toby know you'd meet him by the door. Unsurprisingly Barclay is in the kitchen when you get down there to place the bowls into the sink.

Seeing as it's just the bowls and spoons in the sink you decide you can wash them before placing them in the sanitizer rack.

“Mornin'.”

“Good morning.”

“Basket's on the table.”

“Thanks.”

A quiet settles over you two and you can feel Barclay's brown eyes trail towards your form every few seconds. Finishing the dishes you turn, leaning your butt onto the counter, to face the lumbering man.

“Can I help you?” you raise a brow at him. Clearly he had something more he wanted to say.

“I, I just thought we were closer than that.” he sighs.

Okay what now? Your confusion goes ignored as he continues to speak.

“Seriously YN, you didn't need to sneak away last night if you wanted to spend the night here, and with your boyfriend. I wouldn't have judged.”

“My who? Tobais? He's a friend!” you whisper scream in case Toby is near by. God could at least save one of you this embarrassment.

“Really YN? From the things I'm hearin' you two are a bit more than friends.”

“Ok seriously where are you getting your info from? We haven't done anything. Like just YESTERDAY we agreed we were friends. We've known each other maybe a month?!”

“See that's why this is confusing, you don't touch just anyone. And suddenly you're handsy with some new kid.” Barclay had the decency to start whisper screaming with you. He's gesturing vaguely towards the rest of the lodge before bringing his hands before him and flailing them away. As if to say 'what am I supposed to do with this now?'

“He's neurodivergent!” you say bringing your palms up in front of you.

“So are Jake and Aubrey.”

“And I high five Jake so much.” throwing your arms outward to indicate how much you two high five. “Plus he gets a hug nearly every time I see him.” hands brought back to emphasis this point.

Barclay thinks on that for a bit, “Point taken,” he stands from his hunched position and crosses his arms over his chest, “so y'all aren't dating? Nothin' happened last night?”

“No and no.”

“Don't have to deep clean the sheets today.”

“Gross and no.” best keep the milk droplets out of this, you'd really like to leave the kitchen sooner rather than later. Preferably with no lecture about hygiene and the importance of respecting other's property.

Barclay looks down at you scanning your face for something you aren't quite sure of. But you have a feeling he's treating you like a child for a very specific reason.

“I'm not a virgin.” you deadpan as the man before starts to sputter.

His eyes wide with disbelief. So he really thought you were a virgin this whole time? You wonder who else thought this, you hoped they wouldn't try to confront you about your nonexistent relationship.

You'll just never understand why people assume you're a virgin and why they try their hardest to butt into your life when they think that way. This topic tends to put you in a sour mood and you can already feel it on your face. It's disgusting how people can't mind their business about baseless assumptions.

“Jeez sorry YN,” he does look it as he rubs the back of his neck, “it's just you've never shown an interest and I guess we all got swept up in the possibility of seeing you happy.”

“I am happy?”

“I mean in a relationship, happy in a romantic relationship.” He claps his hands gently on your shoulders. A touch you've gotten used too, had you not wanted it you would've taken a step back.

“Kirby's not in a relationship.” you point out.

“Kirby's gross, and you're adorable.” he chuckles at your glare, “a-dor-a-ble.”

“I will bite you.” he lets go of you with a laugh.

“We're just...trying to keep you safe.” he sighs, and though you don't understand what any of their weirdness has to do with “keeping you safe” you nod. Just to get this over with faster.

“Can I leave now? Tobais and I were gonna get slushies.” he didn't need to know your plans but you didn't want him assuming you two were sneaking off for a date.

“Yea yea, sorry for keeping you.” he leans against the counter as you grab your basket and head out of the kitchen and towards the main door.

Toby and Connor were already waiting for you. If the swaying of his weight was anything to go by they'd been waiting for you for a bit. Seeing you coming his subconscious movement stops and he opens the door. Keeping it open for you.  You lead him over to your Soul as you look through the basket for the keys.

“Keys?” he questions as you pat your pockets.

Toby stops walking with you as you begin to panic. You've lost your keys. Before you voice that though you look through the basket once more, placing it on the hood of your car so you can use both hands to check. His eyes follow you and are caught by a gentle swaying.

“You are a serial killer's wet dream.”

He opens your passenger side door and comes out holding your keys that had been in the ignition. If the blank look he gives you is anything to go by he's not impressed.

“I,I,I was in a hurry!” you say flustered that you did something so stupid. His expression doesn't change.

“Could you pop the trunk please?” you ask not looking in his direction.

The click of the lock is all you need to hear before you rush around him to place the basket in the back. As you do you catch sight of the deer skull still in your trunk. With everything going on you hadn't been to see Madeleine for a mount for the guy. You'll have to remember to stop by her shop this week.

Toby had already gotten Connor situated in the back by the time you sat down in the passengers seat. After buckling in and plugging your phone in to charge you stare ahead of you waiting for Toby to start driving. When you look over at him you see he's staring right back at you with a brow raised.

“Yes?”

“Where are we going?”

Yes the key detail of any road trip, the driver needs to know the destination. Unfortunately for you and Toby you've forgotten to tell him one crucial detail. You drive with no sense of direction. And you relay this to Toby. He looks seconds away from getting out of the car and claiming he's never seen you before much less ever been friends with you.

He takes a deep breath and collects himself.

“Y'know what Brian's worse with directions.” he says more to himself than to you.

He calmly puts the car in gear and heads off to town. No input from Connor, you may have chosen a really good day for this drive. Your phone hits one percent as you pass Resort Row. You know the Hornet's Nest is coming up and that intersection leads to the interstate despite not having legible signs.

“Hey when you get to the Hornet's Nest swing right then drive straight, we'll end up on route 3 onto the interstate.”

“Hornets' nest?”

“It's a skate/stunt park. You'll see it after we get away from the mountain.”

Just as you said Toby saw the Hornet's Nest as he turned onto the road leaving the mountain. By the time you were on route 3 your phone had charged up to seven percent. Enough to turn it on and put on a playlist. You put on one of your sea shanty and folk punk combos.

Toby hasn't even let the song get thirty seconds under way. “No vetoed, we are not listening to sea shanties.”

So he does have music preferences, fair enough. You switch to a playlist with a more chilled electric vibe that has a few oldies tossed into the mix. Toby hasn't heard this playlist before and you are determined to learn his music tastes today.

“Wait wait wait, so you'll listen to folk punk but not sea shanties?”

“How are those even related?”

“They are literally the same thing.”

The two of you continue to bicker back and forth about how similar, or different, shanties and folk punk are. Occasionally it's broken when you read a sign, noticing Toby's horrible squinting, to see if you're on the right route to...well you don't know the destination Toby's been ignoring most of the exits for the past forty minutes though you're sure you two could find a gas station with a slushy machine at any one of the surrounding towns.

You don't mind though you're really enjoying the ride. The soft sounds of the car cutting through the wind at seventy three miles an hour. And the dull hum from the engine falling into the background as They Might Be Giants plays softly through the radio. With a majority of his focus being directed to the road  and the handful of other cars around you, your conversation is limited to topics that don't require much thinking. Really you've just ended up playing twenty questions with the other pulling uno reverse.

Not life altering secrets or deep talks...well until the question was favorite romantic comedy.

“How is Venom a romantic comedy?” Toby laughs after you answer.

“They kiss!” Toby just snorts.

“No Venom in Anne's body kisses Eddie.”

“Yes Venom kissed Eddie. Romance.”

You hear the murmur of 'oh my fucking God' come from Toby as you giggle in your seat. Having been egged on by that simple phrase you continue.

“Eddie is always giving Venom chocolates.”

“Oh yes, sorry, that's very romance.” Toby laughs out rolling his eyes.

“Thank you, I'm glad I could enlighten...” you pause as a sign for the next exit catches your eye. Had you two already driven two hours? Time really does fly when you're having fun. “Hey next exit, Franklin.”

“Thanks got it.” this time he turns on the blinker to get over into the exiting lane.

“What gas station am I looking for?” smart man. He's stopped asking for specific directions and is now asking for a land marker.

“Giant baby.” the car comes to a stop at a red light and Toby takes his eyes off the road to face you.

“...is this...will I just know when I see it.” “When you see it” you say the last part in unison with him nodding solemnly.

To his credit Toby has gone a long way with your weird antics, despite being your official friend for less than a full day. Keeping up with this pattern he doesn't ask anymore questions about this giant baby, keeping his eyes peeled for anything worthy of that title. His valent efforts are rewarded not even ten blocks from the turnpike.

“Is that...”

“Giant baby.” you nod knowing he sees the giant opposum decal in the window of the beat up gas station.

Opening your glove box you remove a spare mask for yourself before offering a sealed in package one for Toby. Who readily takes it after he parks your car in front of the store. Turning to look at you, you can read all the skepticism on his face. It's funny how this is where he questions you, your destination and not like the way over here-or the moment right after you told him you had no sense of direction.

“They have the four divide mega slush.”

“What the hell is that?”

With a coy smile you put on your mask and exit the car waiting at the front for your friend to get his shit together. He doesn't take long to follow you, Connor's lead in hand, into the gas station.

For as dingy and beat up as it looks on the outside it isn't bad once you step inside. Might actually be cleaner than the mini mart in Kelper. Toby glances around taking a mental tally of all the patrons in the store and their positions. He does this a bit. Just hyper aware of everyone when in enclosed spaces.

Dragging him over to the slushy machine after acknowledging the cashier's greeting. Showing him the four divider mega slush cup you demonstrate how it works. Choosing the only three flavors you like and adding a random extra of the three into the forth slot.

The face he makes when you stick the straw in the middle is priceless.

Toby demonstrates how a slushy should be made. Grabbing the single cup and over filling it with cherry flavored ice. He doesn't pick up a straw and you two make your way to the counter.

Since Toby drove here you had no problem paying but he was quicker to get his wallet out and hand the cashier a ten for your slushies. They give him back his change and you two wind up back in the car, taking off your masks.

You take a long sip from you drink.

“I can't believe we drove for two hours for you to just wreck your taste buds.” a playful disdain in his voice.

“Not 'we', you.”

He cuts his eyes at you before shaking his slushy into his open mouth. Guess he couldn't use a straw when he was missing part of his cheek. No suction there.

“So?” you say adding the questioning lilt to your voice.

He shrugs, “It's good.”

“Worth the drive?” He shakes his head.

“Nah - drive made it worth it.”

[avengeultrons]

Title: Escape the Night II (Stark! Reader x Peter)

Summary: The twisted dinner party continues with a coffin, a piano in the woods, and...mannequins? It’s a thriller, and not the good kind.

Word Count: 2296

A/N: I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS SERIES ALREADY! I really hope you do, too! Enjoy:)

PART 3

--

My life was taken in order to hide the artifact from the living. To find it, you must find my coffin, exhume it from the earth, and release me. You must also find the key that unlocks the chain that seals it. The path that leads to the key starts at a fork beneath the weeping tree.

“The Weeping Willow, outside!” you shouted, speed walking to the door as the clue was passed around the group. At least you were good at puzzles, they kept your mind from wandering and spiraling down a rabbit hole of negativity that almost felt inevitable here, “Let’s split up, half find the key and half find the coffin.”

You were leading the pack out of the front doors of the house and down the gravel road to the eerie tree in front, its limbs hanging down as if being pulled to the grass by an unknown force. Tony ran forward and walked beside you, gravel crunching under his feet, “You shouldn’t be in charge of this suicide mission, Y/N,” he said, his face contorted in worry.

“Someone has to be,” you said, repositioning the flimsy cloche hat on your head, “If you must know, it makes me feel better, more in control,” Peter started waving his hands violently from his spot near the base of the tree. You gave your dad one final shrug before running as best as you could in your heels to where he was standing, bent over another clue.

Peter picked up a large red stone and another note, “Go to the tree twenty-seven paces from here,” he read the scribbled handwriting aloud. You stared ahead and glanced wearily at Peter; there were so many trees that you weren’t sure which one to choose. Surely finding a coffin wouldn’t be that hard.

“Well, it’s gotta be where that creepy piano is,” Natasha said, leading the way to the large piano in the trees, almost hidden by greenery, “Seriously, Tony? What is this place?”

You sighed and watched as your father became wracked with more guilt, turning his gaze to his feet as you kept walking. Natasha’s comment was meant to be harmless, but you could tell that it stung, “Let’s just focus on getting out of here. Look, there are two missing keys in the piano,” you said, prying the top of the instrument off. Steve helped hold it open while you grabbed the key you needed, “I think we have to dig over there. Judging by the fresh pile of dirt and the shovels, that is definitely where the coffin is.” “I can’t believe we’re exhuming a coffin out of the ground. We’ve fought robots and aliens, but dead people?” Clint was bitter as he dug, the shovels creating a rhythmic scraping sound.

Digging a grave was hard work. Your face was covered in sweat and specks of dust, your hands cramped and burning. Hoisting the coffin out of the ground was the worst part. There was a dead body in there, after all! Your mind went to all of the worst possible outcomes. All you had to do now was wait for the other half of your party, “There they are with the key for this chain!” Pietro shouted, jumping up from his resting spot on a pile of dirt.

Wanda held the large key, her hands shaking as she unlocked the chain and threw it off of the coffin. You squeezed your eyes shut, your stomach filled with anxious butterflies as they tossed the lid off of the coffin to open it.

“There’s...just a letter?” another one of the partygoers, dressed as a mobster, snatched it up and ripped it open like there was no tomorrow. Which, tomorrow wasn’t a given just yet.

I can feel your presence near, my spirit will soon be free. There is only one more task ahead of you. The hiding ritual is used to conceal the artifact required and unwilling soul to be buried alive and it was mine. Now another unwilling soul must be buried alive to reverse the spell. Only then will the artifact rise from its unearthen tomb.

The letter sent a shiver down your spine. You crossed your arms over your chest to keep from shaking, a scowl present on your face. You were already sick of this house’s games, “We have to vote for someone to die? Again?”

“I vote for Mr. Tony Stark. It’s his house, after all, that got us into this mess! He’s probably working against us,” the same partygoer, which you then found out was named Tim, jabbed a finger at your father.

You gasped and shot a glare at him, turning to Tim, “It’s not his fault! Why are you people always trying to turn the group on someone?” you asked. Tony put his hand up, begging you to stop. He looked rather terrified, standing there like a lost puppy, “Let’s vote, then,” you said. You obviously voted for Tim, even when a pang of guilt rooted itself in your stomach, sinking its teeth in and not letting go.

Tim tried to run when his name was called. The groundskeeper, Mark, stopped him and pulled him back to the group. Tony shooed you and Peter back to the line of trees, trying to conserve your innocence for some time. Both of you couldn’t help but watch for a minute; it was like a car crash that you couldn’t look away from. Like a horror movie that you watched at a slumber party once; none of you really wanted to watch it but you did anyways. You didn’t sleep on that dreadful night.

A gasp escaped your lips when the group put the man in the coffin, you couldn’t watch anymore. You turned your head into Peter’s shoulder and shut your eyes, trying to drown out the sounds of your group screaming and the poor victim’s screams. There was blood on all of your hands now.

“Let’s go,” Sam stepped past you, another one of the pyramid shaped artifacts tucked under his arm. He was speed walking to the house, Steve and the rest of the group following closely behind.

Tony stepped past you, another clue in his hands, “Idle? That’s all it says. Peter, Y/N, look for clues while we try to figure this out,” you were being treated like the mystery gang in Scooby Doo. All you needed was a Great Dane who talked.

“What's that car doing over there?” Peter asked, pointing ahead at a 1920s automobile sitting in the middle of the gravel road. You shrugged and ran ahead, crawling into the car without even thinking about the dangers that could be inside.

Peter threw his hands up, “What are you doing?” he asked with a sigh, sliding into the driver’s seat, “I don't think we should be in here,” he said. You rolled your eyes and pushed open the glove compartment. Another note, a small piece of paper with tiny writing, slid out, falling onto your lap.

“Slow Down,” you read it out loud, your eyebrows knotting together in confusion. You and Peter turned to each other, light bulbs going off in your heads as you spoke in unison, “The brakes.”

Peter reached his hand down on the brake, his head resting against the wheel. His eyes lit up as he held something above his head, “A key,” he said. You smiled and gave him a high five; the two of you probably worked better than Mystery Incorporated.

“What do you think it's for?” you asked, turning to look out of the back windshield. Peter watched you think; your eyebrows knitted together and lips pursed, the cherry scented lip gloss you had on shining from the moonlight in front of you. He really had to stop thinking about your cherry lip gloss.

“The trunk!” you clambered out of the car, Peter following you with the tiny key in his hand.

He unlocked the trunk as you squeezed your eyes shut, “I can't look, what if it's a dead body? Well, another one,” you sighed when Peter tapped your shoulder, “A mannequin?” It was a child sized mannequin, its arms and legs tied together with rope.

The two of you scooped it out of the car and carried it up to the house where the rest of your teammate were.

“We found something!” Peter shouted, hoisting the mannequin up above his head. Wanda called for the two of you from the dining room where four other mannequins were set up at a large mahogany dining table.

The group was trying to follow a picture to set up the mannequins in real life, but they were missing one, the small child sized one, “What kind of freaky game is this?” you asked, dropping the mannequin into the open chair.

“Look, another clue,” Tony announced. He pulled a small postcard out of the jewelry box on the table.

My employer,

I have hidden the artifact given to me as you requested in the new art installation on the second floor. I'm afraid it can only be visited by two guests selected by a vote. They should be prepared to play party games.

You groaned loudly, following the group back to the common area to vote yet again. Voting never brought anything good in this house. Especially not when Tony and Wanda were chosen for the party games, “Are you kidding me? These people are just trying to wipe us all out,” you glared at the people sitting on the couch opposite you. Tony sighed and kissed your forehead promptly before following Wanda up the steps, leaving you to fester in your anxiety.

“You're the ones killing off all of us!” the man across from you shouted. He wore a giant crystal watch that matched his pretentious attitude towards the whole situation, “Who’s to say that you're not the puppet master of this whole thing? You and your boyfriend? Think twice before pointing a finger, you little bitch,” when your least favorite word on planet earth rolled off of his tongue, Peter was first to jump up with his fists clenched and raised as if he would punch the face of the 20s gangster.

You jumped up and grabbed his arm, “Woah, woah!” Pietro was quick to pull Natasha back to the couch before she charged as well. Your face was burning bright red as you pulled Peter back down onto the couch, looping your arm through his, “You're lucky we’re holding them back.”

“I'm sorry,” Peter said quietly, sighing a shaky sigh. You looked up at him from your slumped position on the couch. He looked down at the ground like a puppy dog who was just in trouble for something, his hair, which he fixed on the way to the party, falling in front of his eyes. You smiled a painful smile and lay your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes briefly.

His eyes widened as you did so, a small smile creeping onto his face that he tried to hide from the rest of the party. Wanda caught his eye and smiled adoringly resting her chin in her hand as she watched his face turn pink.  

A scream made you jump up, your eyes widening in shock as you watched the woman, dressed as an heiress, in front of you fall to the ground and die almost instantaneously. You could practically hear a pin drop as all of you stared at her, not knowing what to do or say next.

Your mouth fell open as you gaped at her, your stomach dropping to the floor. Creaking of wood could be heard as Tony and Wanda ran down the steps, joining the rest of you in the living room.

Living rooms were typically supposed to be full of lively conversations and comfortable seating, not dead people and silence, “Every time we do a challenge, someone will die,” Natasha said dryly, trying to read the look on Tony’s face.

“I think so,” Wanda nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. Another artifact was tucked under her arm, this one just as creepy as the last, “We have the third artifact; though. One step closer to getting the hell out of here.”

You sighed and tried stretching the fatigue and exhaustion out of your limbs. There was still a long night ahead of you, “So, what did you have to do?” you asked, taking a glass of water from Arthur as he passed them out.

“We had to play Spin the Bottle with a bunch of mannequins. It was...weird,” Tony and Wanda shared a glance, chuckling lightly, “Let’s hurry, we only have one artifact left.”

He unfolded the note and opened is mouth to read it out loud when a loud roar from outside shook the whole house, the glass vibrating and shaking. Peter’s glass slipped from his hand as he jumped, “Sorry,” he said as he stared down at the broken glass.

“What was that?” you stared out at the courtyard, trying to find whatever made the noise.

The room fell completely silent as Arthur stood at the window, talking to all of you as if he was telling a ghost story, “The evil of the house. It knows someone wants to imprison it. It's unleashed its guardian to make sure that it doesn't happen.”

You raised an eyebrow, an uneasy feeling taking over. Peter glanced over at you nervously, gulping as he narrowed his eyes at the window. You were hyper aware of your hands touching, your cheeks burning with a pink blush, even as you blinked your eyes to keep the exhaustion out. All you wanted to do was fall asleep and escape your problems, “What's going on?”

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

asks (40)

Anonymous said: Holy frick that is so encouraging and I needed that so much bc I literally visited my college to measure my dorm room and drove home in tears bc I panicked myself into a frenzy about whether or not everything leading me to this point has been a mistake and what if I fail and ruin my life before it even starts (I have since calmed down a little) so your encouragement was much needed & is much appreciated

I’m glad I could help <3 <3 <3 Good luck at school! I’m sure you’ll kick its ass

areverieofchaosdreams said: It's Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day. So thank you for all your amazing stories!!!

Oh goodness I’m all a blushin :’)

Anonymous said: *HAPPY WRITER APPRECIATION DAY* Send this to someone whose talent has blown you away, who you'd like to encourage to keep on writing always, and who you'd like to thank for working their butt off to provide fandom members with breathtaking stories to consume! THANK YOU :D

Aw thank you!

Anonymous said: Hi! I Hope you're well! Do you still take fic requests? Because I really miss Colin Wilkes and I'd love to a story of him with your writing!

Unfortunately I don’t often take requests these days, but I’ll definitely keep Colin in mind!

dirtycherrypie said: hey! applying for WE for the R&D department (may or may not be aware of producing bat gadgets)

dirtycherrypie said: SHit forgot my name - Bea, at your service!

[Bruce Wayne voice] hired

tigers-and-weeds said: Literally just fell down the rabbit hole on your tumblr for the last 12-24 hours. I am in love with with you headcannons and fics! The angst feeds my soul... So I figured I would request: anything angsty with Dick and Damian please please please

Okay again I don’t usually take fic requests BUT I like me some angst so the odds that this will eventually happen.... are extremely high. I’ll try to remember to dedicate the next one to you :) And thank you!

math--ew said: I went on a little birthday vacation to california and I've never been to the beach before. I was bending down to grab a pretty shell and this huge wave knocked me face first into the sand. Like, five people saw and laghed but I got the shell so I guess it's a win win.

Duuuude back at Lake Michigan last month the same thing happened to me. I was taking care of my little sister and her five year old friend, so I was so busy making sure they were okay that the wave plowed me halfway across the beach

babybatbrat said: when i was in ap physics i once spent an entire study period in my physics teacher's room working on one problem. as far as i could tell i was doing all of the work correctly and had all the initial values right so i was racking my brain trying to figure out why i wasn't getting the right answer. the third time i went up to my teacher and asked for help he told me to start at the beginning and walk him through my process bc he couldn't tell why i was getting it wrong either (1)

babybatbrat said: (2) so i start the problem and explain how i got through all the values - "okay so the rod is 5 inches long and half of 5 is 3 and a half -" and i stopped there bc it occurred to me that 3.5 is not half of 5. "it's what?" My teacher asks. i put my head in my hands and stood there for a minute before picking up my work and walking to the back of the classroom while he laughed, bc i had just spent 45 minutes convinced that half of 5 was 3.5 and not, in fact, 2.5, and that was the only thing wrong

Honestly??? Relatable

babybatbrat said: One time i woke up at six in the morning to hear the neighbor's dog barking and instantly realized that meant my dog had jumped the fence, so i went racing outside and sprinted down the street to catch her. when i did i picked her up and turned around to go home and then saw my neighbor standing on their front porch, realized i was in only an oversized spiderman tshirt and snowman pajama shorts, holding a twenty pound labrador and thats how i met my new neighbors

Incredible...... 10/10.....

thrakaboom said: Not a funny story,but two days ago at comic con I met Tom King and he showed me a picture of his kids while he was signing my books

Well hey that’s pretty cool

Anonymous said: I adore your Tumblr. It was a wonderful way to get into the Batfamily fanbase; prior, I thought that there was only one Batman and a single Robin, dearie me was I wrong. And those stories you write, just great. The Headcanons are just as enjoyable. As for Batman, that has come to be a sibling enjoyment. Thank you for your contributions and existence!

!!!!!! Welcome to the crew!

frnkensteingrrrlz said: hey!!! i just went through ur reasons to be happy tag and!! i'm so so happy bc of it (esp the damian hcs, they're spot on imo and he's my favourite) so i hope u have a good day!!!

Thanks! I am having a good day today! Although I’m sure it’s been a long time since you sent this :////

Anonymous said: HELLO I have just discovered and binge-read all of your fics with my homeboy Damian in them, and just wanted to pop by and say that I love you & you are my hero & you write my boy so well so thank u and I hope your life is blessed & you achieve your wildest hopes & dreams

My day is made :D

badfaith00 said: Best batman storyline you've ever read ?

Ooooooh hm I’m mighty attached to n52 Batman and Robin? Particularly the first storyline, but the second is also fantastic

Anonymous said: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHAMELESSLY REBLOGGING YOUR OWN WORK BC I HADNT SEEN IT BEFORE AND ITS HONESTLY SO PHENOMENAL ITS GOING ON MY LIST OF ALL TIME FAVORITES THANK U AND BLESS U

THANK YOU!!! THAT ONE IS MY FAVORITE AND I AM VERY PROUD OF IT

onwardmotley said: In today's Detective Comics someone finally told Bruce and co that Tim's alive. They didn't explain where he is, or how to get him back, but hey. It might've had more impact if anyone was seen actually mourning Tim and it wasn't just played as him being in cosmic time out, but at least it should end soon idk. Hopefully.

Tim Drake? It’s been years since I heard that name.....

Finally. Thank goodness.

Anonymous said: Idk if I prefer your soul crushing angst or your heartwarming fluff... actually I like to suffer so I'll stay with angst lol

Y’all seeing this? Anon gave me permission. Can’t yell at me next time because it won't be my fault (thanks babe :))

Anonymous said: for music, idk what kind of music u like so here is variety: St. Vincent - Paris is Burning, Sea Wolf - Dear Fellow Traveler (tbh everything by Sea Wolf is great), Dirt Poor Robins - Eleanor Rigby, Between Wind and Water- HAEL, Ellem - Kings and Queens and Vagabonds, The Rigs - Rise & Fall, Tally Hall - Light and Night, and Streetlight Manifesto - The Hands that Thieve.

Thank you! I’m excited to listen to these! I’ll start right now!

Anonymous said: 1) What are the good comics to read for Batfamily stuff (from any point in time) and 2) what are the best Jason Todd comics? Thanks!

Okay for Jason I would definitely start with the big ones, which are A Death In the Family and Under the Red Hood. After that you could try Red Hood: the Lost Days and Countdown to Final Crisis. I would avoid the n52 series until you have a good enough grasp of the character to recognize bad writing when you see it. 

For the generalized batfam.... that’s pretty broad. My personal favorites are Red Robin, Batgirl (2009), and both B&R series. If you have more specific questions, you should IM me! I promise I’m better about answering those than asks

yellowwallsbluesky said: Have you heard Swooner by The Zolas? I've really been jamming to it lately

Listening to it right now! Sounds like a bop so far :)

Anonymous said: Hidden citizens paint it black 💜

Much obliged!

Anonymous said: Harry styles "sign of the times".

[adds to list] thank you!

neo669 said: I MISS CASA OLE!! Sorry just read that you lived in Bryan/College Station and I used to live there as well. It's kinda hard to find people that even know that it exists. But I'm sure you can kick law schools butt. You got this!

Yooooooo I miss cstat too :((((

palliddark said: Adalgiza, and I'll be a translator (English to Brazilian Portuguese)

[Bruce Wayne voice] also hired

maeofthedead said: I love your headcannons and now I sort of want to cry thank

Excellent that is the exact target response 

Anonymous said: Love your rant in the tags about the pizza making I'm laughing so hard

Listen..... I have strong feelings

Anonymous said: Did you hear they're making an omnibus of Tomasi's entire run on Batman & Robin?? I just heard and now I kinda want to get this massive book in honor of my favorite batkid and the series that made me love him so much

Man I already have all the individual volumes but if I didn’t......

sonicboom00724601 said: Hi. :) Nice headcanon. :)

I’m not sure which one you’re talking about, but thank you! You're real sweet

Anonymous said: can you maybe write an interaction between Wonder Woman and Captain America? I absolutely adore your style and would love to see your take on it.

Hmmmm I don’t really have a good enough grasp of Captain America’s characterization to try that one :////

Anonymous said: i tried to kill on mosquito that was on my ceiling by slamming it with a book but mosquito was on the move so i bounced swiftly and jammed both my wrist and thumb and now my existence is Pain. also my thumbs swelling and looks purple, so that's nice

Oh shit anon you good???

daziy said: Do we know who Barbara's mother usually is?

Yeah! In her original version, Babs had a birth mom and an adopted mom. She was originally Jim’s niece, so her birth mom’s name was Thelma Gordon. After the adoption, her parents were Jim and Barbara Gordon, with her adopted mother being her namesake. So two Barbara Gordons.

I think for awhile the canon was that her mother died in a car crash, but the current version has her still alive. She left Jim when Babs was young, taking her son (Babs’s brother) with her. James Gordon (the son) turned out to be a serial killer. 

Barbara Gordon Sr. and James Gordon Jr. both appeared in the n52 Batgirl series during the Death of the Family arc. There’s also a very good story about James from the Dickbats period. That one’s called The Black Mirror, if I’m not mistaken?

Anonymous said: Hi! What do you think of the upcoming metal event? Dick and Damian seem to have a big role in it ( I hope Jason is involved too but there's still no sign of it)

Hmmmm I don’t know that I have an opinion just yet, but as always, I hope to be pleasantly surprised 

Anonymous said: bless you are your wonderful tagging system. know that i may have avoided death because of how easy it was to f ind the thing I wanted in your tags. bless

Oh goodness anon I hope you’re not serious about almost dying.... but thanks?

Anonymous said: hi amy! would u say that damians narrative is written as a child abuse one? like there are definitely many allusions to it but its also not as explicit as say, cassandra or rose. like how much of it would u chalk up to comic world dynamics and how much to actual abuse? also would u consider jason to also be a case of this?

Oh I have very strong opinions about the role of abuse in Damian’s narrative. It’s absolutely there, and the effects are staggeringly large. There is no doubt in my mind that the league was an abusive environment, and I can’t justify some of the things Bruce did either.

I think I would say the same thing for Jason, if not quite as strongly. I definitely think that some of the things that happened to Jason as a child shaped his story later on, but less of those were abuse than outside circumstances. The n52 takes a different track on that one, I think, but I don’t put much stock in that characterization. 

Anonymous said: has jason forgiven bruce for not killing joker? if so, what made him?

Unlikely. They get along better these days, but I would argue that comes from poor characterization of Bruce, not an actual resolution process. 

mellenabrave said: My mom accidentlly threw my Damian doll away (╥_╥)

Tossed in the garbage by yet another parent--

Anonymous said: Whoa where'd you get that bat and oracle shirt you're wearing in your necklace pic? It's so cool! (The necklace is also gorgeous!)

Shoot I think it was from Redbubble? But I can’t find it now

Anonymous said: Omg that necklace was so cool!!! Kudos to the maker of it!! Also I really like your top!!

Thank you <3

[eliniei]

Those Hard Days - Chapter 42

Summary: Rae’s brother always made sure she was tough as nails. But when her father flips her world upside down, will she find that there’s a limit on how strong she can be?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (non-graphic, fade-to-black), child abuse, underage drinking, underage smoking, drug use, violence, major character death

AO3: here Fanfiction.net: here

Masterlist

Previous Chapter |  Next Chapter

Chapter 42 - Angry

Over the next week, Rae didn’t say much. For days, she laid in bed, unmoving, for hours on end. At mealtimes, when she’d deign to join them, she sat in front of a full plate, staring at the food she knew she had no intention of eating. 

She always felt exhausted. Her limbs were heavy, and the hole in her heart only felt like it was growing larger. Even when she couldn’t sleep through the pain in her chest, she didn’t have the energy to get up and just stared at the wall next to her bed. 

Mrs. Mathews did everything in her power to coax her out of bed. She sent Carrie and Chrissy in to try to get her to go to a movie-go shopping. Something. Anything. Carrie seemed distraught at her friend’s current state, when the two girls left, she couldn’t even speak. 

This felt the same way when she was across town, when she thought that Dally had abandoned her. Except this time, she didn’t have the alcohol to numb the pain. Tim had made sure of that when he told them what she’d done. She cursed him for it. She could’ve drunk herself to death by now and she’d be with her brother, wherever he was.

When she’d told Two-Bit as much, he’d lost it. 

He’d yelled at her. She knew he didn’t mean to yell, but he’d had enough. 

“How can I help you if you won’t let me? If you won’t let anyone? If you won’t help yourself?”

When she started shaking and quietly tried to hold back her tears, he’d stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. She didn’t want help. There was only one thing she wanted, and she wasn’t going to get it, no matter how hard she hoped. So, she’d decided to just waste away in her bed.

“We loved him too, ya know,” he said through the door. She wasn’t sure if she was meant to hear it, but she did. She curled up further as his footsteps sounded down the hall.

The next morning, Rae was woken up by a rough hand forcing her out of bed, her comforter coming with her. She stumbled to her feet, bleary eyed and confused, untangling herself from the blanket and letting it fall to the floor. Two-Bit released her arm and threw a change of clothes at her. She caught the jeans, but the shirt fell to the floor.

“Get dressed,” he ordered. “We’re going out.” She deposited the pants onto the floor with the top. 

“I don’t feel like it,” she said, turning back to the bed so she could lay back down.

“I don’t care,” her friend said, fiercely, spinning her back to face him. “I will take you out in your shorts if I have to, but today you’re going outside and you’re going to be a human.” A spark of resentment lit in her stomach and they stared at each other. Her eyes blazed with an icy cold, but he didn’t back down. He refused to leave the room until she’d done as she was told.

When she emerged from her room, Two-Bit threw her leather jacket at her. 

The jacket Dally had gotten her for her birthday. After staring down at it in her arms for a few long seconds, she shoved it back at her friend and refused to meet his gaze.

“Not-not that one.” 

Two-Bit frowned, but relented, and ushered her outside into the cold air. The sun was bright and she shielded her eyes with her hand.

“Where we goin?”

“Where else?” he asked as they made their way towards one of the most familiar places in both of their lives. 

When Two-Bit pushed open the front door, she saw most of the boys sitting around the TV. Soda and Steve were playing cards on the couch and Pony, finally recovering from his fever, was curled up in one of the armchairs, a blanket enveloping him, dozing off. Soda looked up from his card game and did a double-take.

“Rae!” he exclaimed, a smile spreading across his lips. “You’re here!”

“Not ‘cause I wanna be,” she mumbled, crossing her arms. She dropped into the free seat on the couch behind Steve, making the other cushions bounce. Her friend turned to face her. 

“How ya doin’, kid?” he asked.

“Just peachy,” she snapped, leaning away from him, onto the arm of the couch. Two-Bit gave her a look and shrugged at Steve as he crossed the room to go to the kitchen. She shifted and pretended to pay attention to the TV. When he came back into the room, he dropped a sleeve of saltines into her lap.

“Eat.”

“Not hungry.”

“Rae,” Soda started, attention returning to his game. “Ya gotta eat somethin’.”

“Don’t make us hold ya down and force ya to swallow,” Steve threatened, his back to her again. “Because ya know we will.”

She clenched her jaw, but pulled open the plastic.

The boys left her alone for the rest of the day.

When Darry came home late in the afternoon, Rae was curled up in his mother’s armchair, her back facing him, one of Ponyboy’s books open in her hand. She didn’t bother turning when he walked through the door. He didn’t say a word as he passed her, but he did look back before he entered the kitchen where his middle brother was starting on dinner. She heard mumbling before-

“Yeah, just leave her be,” Soda whispered, but loud enough for her to catch. “We made her eat some crackers and she’s, uh, pretty pissed about it.” She sighed, loudly, and turned over. Darry walked out of the kitchen and went down to hallway to change out of his work clothes. 

When dinner was ready, Two-Bit came back in from the dining room to let her know. She turned the page of her book. 

“Look,” he started. “You’re comin’ to the table whether you wanna or not. I told ya, you’re at least gonna pretend to be human today.”

“Two-Bit,” Darry warned him from the other room. “Lay off.”

“It’s the only way I can get her to do anything, man.” A sigh, and heavy steps. Darry came up in front of her and knelt down to her eye level.

“Will you please come sit with us?”

She lowered her book and looked at him. He had dark circles under his eyes, his cheekbones protruding from his skin more than usual. He was tired. Stressed, dealing with the trial and his brothers, worrying about her, all the while still going to work. Grieving, just like she was. 

Rae felt the blood rush to her nose and her eyes started to fill. She looked down at her lap for a moment and blinked her tears away, then sat up.

“Fine.”

Two-Bit helped Rae out of the armchair and sat her between himself and Steve at the table. They had put a plate in her place, just in case, but she just sat with her arms in her lap, playing with the thin hair ties that she always kept on her wrist. The boys sat, talking about their days with full mouths. 

“Pony’s prob’ly okay to be home by hisself from now on,” Sodapop said, patting his younger brother on the back hard enough to make him drop his fork. The metal clanged against the ceramic and it made her jump. “He’ll be back in school in no time.” She looked up at the poor kid. He was still a little pale and he looked miserable. In that instant, it dawned on her that he lost his best friend, too.

Maybe...maybe if they could do it, she could too.

Maybe…

But how do they get over this horrible loneliness?

The boys were done eating and more clashing of plates scared her out of her thoughts. Darry asked Soda to do the dishes tonight and he’d pay his brother back the next night, then came back to the table. 

“Walk with me?” he asked Rae. She looked up at him, unsure. His lips titled up a little and nodded his head towards the door. Really, it was the last thing she wanted to do, but if he insisted, she’d do it for him. “C’mon.”

“I...I guess.” She stood up and followed him outside and down the front steps. The evening chill went right through her clothes and she pulled her long sleeves over her hands, then wrapped her arms around herself as the two walked down the sidewalk. 

“Two-Bit told me what ya said yesterday. I thought maybe you’d wanna talk. I know what you’re goin’ through,” the oldest Curtis brother started. “And don’t argue. Ya know it’s true.” She nodded. She hadn’t planned on saying a word. “I know ya don’t wanna do anything- don’t wanna eat, don’t wanna talk. Just wanna lay in bed and stare at the wall. I know because I wanted to do it too.” She was quiet for a moment, but he seemed to be expecting a response.

“You’re not wrong,” she confirmed. “But I don’t…” She hesitated.

“You don’t know how to make it stop?” he guessed.

“I don’t know how ya do it.” And then it all came out. It felt like she couldn’t stop. “I just...I’m so lost without him, Darry.”

“I know.”

“And lonely.”

“I know.”

“I can’t…” She looked down at the cracked sidewalk. It resembled whatever soul she had left. “I can’t do this without him.” She sniffled, panic rising up her throat. Thinking about living without him- laughing, having fun, growing older than he ever got to be...it didn’t seem right. It felt like she was betraying him. Tears filled her eyes again, but this time she let them snake down her cheeks, wiping them with the sleeves of her shirt. “I feel like...a traitor, still bein’ here when he’s gone.”

“Rae,” Darry said, stopping her at the corner of the street. He gripped her arms, firmly, and she looked up at him. She was sure she looked pathetic. “You can do this, okay? He would want you to live.”

“How, Darry? What do I do without him? How am I...supposed to live? I don’t...I don’t understand how you can just move on.” She was stumbling over her words now. Her mind was racing, and she couldn’t stop the tears from sliding down her cheeks.

“We move on, Rae, because we don’t have a choice.”

“But how? How do you enjoy it? How did you learn to smile again without feelin’ guilty?”

“Time,” he responded, pulling her into him. “The longer you go, the less it hurts. There is no instant cure.” She wrapped her arms around his back, burying her face into his shirt. 

“Does it ever go away?” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

“I won’t lie to you,” he started, heaving a sigh. “It ain’t ever gonna go away. Not completely. It’s always there, even if it’s buried deep down. But one day, you’ll be able to smile through the pain, and you’ll be able to mean it.” She sucked in a deep, shaky breath. “I promise. And we’ll all be here to help. We...we loved Dally, too.” 

“Okay,” Rae murmured with a nod. He laid his head on top of hers. “Okay. I believe you.” Darry held her out again, slouching to get down to her eye level.

“You’ll stop worryin’ us now?” She wiped her cheek with her palm and sniffled again, but nodded again. 

“I’ll-I’ll try.” He nodded too, then laid his arm across her shoulders and started leading her back to the house.

“That’s all we can ask, baby.”